Playing with Your Food
by AgaruTomo
Summary: Alyra, a half-Elf, had been living a relatively normal life in Horde territory, until a lone Troll sees her win a fight and decides to learn more about her. But a knife from her dead mate becomes a target for a pair of strange twins.
1. In Which Alyra is Interesting

_A/N: Okay, I don't play World of Warcraft, but because of Tseer's story, I have created this one. She is my consultant, but I don't know everything about the game. Either way, I'm rather proud of this first chapter. Sorry if it's too long, but I need to make my chapters longer anyways. As always, I love reviews, but getting more than 'I love this! Please update!' makes my day! Please enjoy the story!_

_ EDIT: I have edited the story some and I am posting the changes. _

_ CHAPTER ONE: In Which Alyra is Interesting_

Alyra had considered becoming a Hunter, as it would have benefited her life style quite a bit. Over time, she found that she was more suited to being a Warrior, the skills coming naturally to her. But she made sure to remember the tracking and stealth that she had learned. Using a sword just felt better to her, the heavy, two-handed weapon always feeling perfect in her hands. She knew how to use a cross bow to some extent—she could bring down small game with it, but she didn't count on the bow when she needed to protect herself.

Her father had been a Night Elf, and her mother a rather beautiful Human, with one blue eye, and one brown eye. They had been good parents, but had left Alyra's life when she was fourteen. While they left behind a considerable estate, there wasn't much money left, and Alyra had no desire to remain in the city. She sold everything and left, learning to take care of herself through trial and error. She had lived in many places, all across Azeroth, but now found herself living in the Ashenvale Forest, near the Fallen Sky Lake at the edge of the Barrens. It was a dangerous place for someone of her lineage, but she had come to love her new home, and had no wish to leave.

Unfortunately, Horde patrols weren't all that uncommon on the Barrens, often going right through the grounds where Alyra liked to hunt. She always traveled far from her home to hunt, even though she had paid a Mage to cast a spell over the large tree house, hiding it from unfriendly eyes. Through her many years, only once had she let down her guard, and lost something—and someone—dear to her because of it; she would take every precaution this time.

On this particular night, the half-Elf was out on the Barrens, hunting a large species of lizard that she found particularly tasty. She had seen some patrols earlier in the evening, and normally would have not ventured out. But her meat stores were getting low, and she needed to hunt. Her crossbow was already loaded and in hand, her broadsword strapped—as always—to her back.

She was smaller that most Warriors, standing just over five-three, with a compact and curvy build. Over black leggings and a moss-green tunic she wore leather armor shaped specifically to her form, the material dark and plain. Knives were stuffed into both her boots, and hidden in the bracers on her forearms. Her belt held a short quiver of bolts for her crossbow, as well as a knife used to gut and skin animals.

Her eyes did not have the unearthly, full moon glow as her father's had, but rather mirrored her mother, her left eye a piercing sky blue, the other a warm, honey brown. She had her mother's red brown hair as well, but the style was very different. Her hair, hanging down past her shoulders, was wild and spiky, adored with several short little braids, all bound at the ends with thin bands of polished steel. She had also fixed two bright feathers in her hair on the right side, looking quite tribal for someone born of Alliance races.

She looked almost completely human, but two outstanding features left no doubt that she was more than that. Her ears mimicked her father's, extending back to pointed tips. Each lobe was pierced with a U of bone, the tips filed to points and hanging down. The skin of her hands, feet, ear tips, shoulders, and along her spine was a dusky blue, also paying homage back to her father.

The other aspects that made the young-looking woman stand out were her tattoos. She had five of them, all of them the same shape and a dark, blood red in color. Each tattoo was a thick rectangular band, with red dots following the bottom edge. There was one across her right cheek, one across her right breast, one across the back of her left hand, another several inches below on her arm, and the last banding across her right thigh.

The moon was just shy of being full, and Alyra whispered along, moving through the thick scrub brush, eyes on the ground. She had always had an eye for detail, and easily picked out the tracks of her prey. The five large claws on each foot, and the long, dragging tail left a distinct pattern. Her nostrils flared, and she breathed deeply. The air was dry, and she closed her eyes, focusing her mind.

"Gotcha," she breathed in Common; she could speak Trollish and Dwarvish fluently as well, but her father's fluid language was lost on her. She could smell the lizard now, and she slipped forward again. It took skill to keep from breaking about five twigs with each little step, but she had those skills in spades. There was only the soft scrape of brush on her leather armor as she moved, the sounds she was waiting for soon coming into range. And not long after that, the lizard—busy with it's own hunt and upwind of Alyra—came into view. A grin widened her lips, but froze just as quickly; she and the lizard weren't alone.

She half closed her eyes, shifting her focus. She could hear muffled voices now, behind her—no—in front? No again. They were all around her, and they knew that she was there. She swore under her breath in Trollish, locking her crossbow onto her belt and quickly drawing her sword. This shouldn't be happening. She had been studying the patterns so carefully… how had this happened? She wasn't fluent in Orcish, but she knew the basics.

"_Human...female…"_

"_No… Elf."_

"_What's she—?"_

"_Stupid…"_

"_No sign… before… where…?"_

The leather of Alyra's gloves creaked softly as her hands tightened on the grip of her sword, and she shifted her feet silently. They were tightening a circle around her, and she could pick out at least seven different voices, all of them male. _'Damn an' blast!'_ She started advancing, still silent as she moved to meet her foes. _'I checked and checked and—FUCK!'_

An arrow thudded into her upper thigh. Her armor kept it from going in more than a couple inches, but it still burned and made her cry out. "Wastes of Goddess damn _skin_!" she shouted in their own language, yanking out the arrow. Then she charged; she had never liked wasting time. The first Orc that came into view was a Warrior like she was. In an instant she sized him up and found an opening. She lunged at it, but he reacted as quickly as she did, blocking her. She felt an arrow graze her scalp through her hair, and pushed back from the Warrior, rounding on the archer.

He saw her coming at him, and fumbled with the new arrow that he was trying to load. He only had time to curse her before his blood spattered her face, his head falling to the ground. She didn't have any time to think, and gave herself over to training an instinct, reacting to every blow that came at her without focusing on any one person; it was the only way she would be able to survive.

Her broadsword cut through another Orc's armor, his blood spurting out. She didn't just let him fall, as a novice might. She made _sure_ that he was dead, stabbing him through the heart before whirling to block the daggers of a Rogue. "All I wanted was some bloody food!" she shouted in Trollish, without any trace of an accent. She screamed several more curses in the same language, kicking the Orc between the legs, yanking out a boot knife to send it winging into the first she'd clashed with.

He snarled at her, face paling to a sickly shade as he coughed; the blade had punctured a lung. Yet a third arrow came at her, this one finding the gap at her waist where the chest part of her armor laced to the groin. It went through her back and out her front—mostly just through skin—missing anything vital but still making her howl in pain. But she didn't fall to the ground—the small woman was stronger and more stubborn than she looked.

Instead, Alyra surged ahead, using the adrenaline pumping through her veins to her advantage. The archer lost his left arm and right hand with two swift blows, and then she ran him through. That was four down, three to go. She abruptly flattened herself to the ground, barely dodging a ball of flame from the only Mage. "Hell's bloody fucking bells!" She uttered several more unseemly expletives, slapping at the ends of her singed hair. "Damn Mage!" Another boot knife flew, taking the Orc in the shoulder.

Burning through the pain, she surged ahead with a scream, running the mage through to the hilt of her sword, her knuckles creaking with the force with which she gripped the hilt. Yanking her sword out, she rounded on the remaining two, both of them Rogues. "All I wanted was some damn dinner!" she snarled, planting her feet and sliding into a fighting stance. "Goddess _damn_ you and your timing!" The little half blood had a temper. "You're all the biggest wastes of blood and bone to be born in the last thousand years! Isn't there a pair of stones between the lot of you? Come on!"

The events that followed happened quickly. The Orc Rogues attacked, and it was obvious that they both had some skill. The first attacked with a downward strike of both daggers, a few small sparks flying as her broad sword blocked. The second Orc attacked slightly to the side, daggers going down at her head. All she did was step back, taking the blow in her bicep rather than in the face.

It all happened in an instant, and there was a moment where everything stood still. The adrenaline filled woman snapped back into the moment first. She took another step back and swung around in a half circle, cleaving across both Orcs at once. They were both dying, but one had the sense to throw his dagger. It almost hit the woman, but she slapped it out of the way with her own sword.

When both of them had stopped breathing, Alyra finally slumped, her sword falling to her side and her knees thudding into the ground. She squeezed her eyes shut, forcing herself to breath deeply—in and out, in and out—before she looked down at her side. She winced at the arrow, muttering under her breath. She was thankful, though, that all it had damaged was skin and muscle. "Damn, damn, damn, and damn."

Looking around, she bit her bottom lip. Were there more of them out there? Had anyone heard the fight, and was now watching? Sending word for another patrol? She didn't know the answers to either of those questions, and probably didn't _want_ to know. But what she _did_ know was that she had to get back home and patch herself up. She picked up her sword, and then retrieved her knives. Casting another wary glance about herself, she fled, limping, back towards the forest.

000

Her wounds slowed her down, but Alyra made it home without further incident. Relief flooded through her as she came to the base of the giant tree that housed her home. Bracing a supporting hand against the trunk, she looked up the steps carved into the wood itself. It was a long climb, and the pain was starting to set in, but she couldn't afford to stay on the ground. She grit her teeth, and put a foot in the first step. Then she stiffened, the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end. Her head whipped around, eyes flicking back and forth, up and down.

_'I could have sworn…'_ She shook her head, and started climbing. Though she had to stop twice for breath, she made it to the top and inside her house. She knew that she was now veiled completely from prying eyes, but she still couldn't shake the feeling of not being alone. She chewed her bottom lip as she limped towards the bathroom, and the first aid kit. She'd have to see a Healer, but for the time being, she could take care of herself. She pulled out the first aid box, and sat down on the floor.

"Anyone who's listening up there," she cast a glance skyward, "let me finish this before I pass out."

000

The Troll had unusually keen eyesight, so spotting the fight from the branches of a tree at the very edge of the forest hadn't been a problem. He had watched as the female dispatched the patrol, and found himself rather fascinated. She had wielded her heavy broadsword with surprising speed, and the fact that she could lift the weapon at all with her little frame was an accomplishment in itself.

His clan had long since been destroyed, and he now wandered about at his leisure, doing as he pleased. He had always liked to 'play' with any situation or person that interested him. He loved to poke and prod at them, learning everything he could by teasing and tormenting. The Troll had taken an odd sort of liking to the girl, and had followed her home.

The hood of his oilskin cloak was back, showing skin that was turquoise, with hints of a purple shade, and intent golden eyes. The length of his tusks marked him as an adult, half of the left one broken off. The end of his right ear was tattered, as if it had been gnawed on by an animal. His thick, coarse hair was loose and jet back, hanging slightly past this shoulders with little carved bones and charms braded into it here and there.

When the girl had come within a few feet of the large tree, she had vanished without a trace; he couldn't hear or smell her any more either. He cocked his tattered ear towards the tree, eyes half closing. But there was nothing, only the whispers of the forest at night. His suspicions of magic were confirmed. Even if she wasn't a Mage, or a class that could use magic, the half-Elf's home had some kind of spell cast about it, preventing him from perceiving it. He'd come across protection spells before, and while some actually hurt unwanted visitors, this one had a different feel to it.

He dropped down to the ground, drawing his hood back up over his head. As he advanced, he extended a hand, closing his eyes and breathing in the scents of the night. Yes, there it was, the scent of a female; he could smell her again. It wasn't a heavy smell, light and barely there, but now he was even more sure of himself. A grin slowly spread across his face, as he stopped, rolling his shoulders before stepping forward. All sound and smell dropped away from him for a moment as he passed through the wall of the spell.

It came rushing back just as quickly, with the added sight of a large tree house in the branches above him. His grin widened, and he took a hold of the hollows carved into the tree that made up a sort of ladder. "Le's see what kinda Elfy y' are," he murmured.

000

Alyra's window was open, and a cool breeze played over her skin. She had cleaned and bandaged her wounds, and now laid in bed, clad only in a plain cotton shift, the hem of it not even reaching her knees. It had taken her some time to doze off, even with her fatigue, and when she finally did, she couldn't sink very deep. She tossed and turned, pulled from sleep every now and then by twinges of pain. When she woke, she would have to readjust herself, and close her eyes again. But no matter what she tried, still couldn't drift off properly.

With an exasperated sigh, she rolled gingerly onto her back, rubbing her bandaged left bicep. "Dammit," she breathed, eyes fluttering open to look up at the ceiling. "Why can't I just sleep?" She had never had difficulty sleeping, unless she had been in a bad part of town, and there had been a danger of getting attacked in her sleep. But there shouldn't be any danger out here…

Weight shifted on the bed, weight that wasn't hers.

Without thinking, she yanked the dagger out from under her pillow, shooting up and lunging towards the foot of her bed.

A large hand closed tightly on her wrist, another wrapping around her throat. Alyra was jerked to a stop then forced onto her back, a huge form looming over her. She felt a pair of legs plant on either side of her body, and a pair of glowing gold eyes stared down at her from a shadowed face. "Not very nice t' attack yer guests," the figure murmured in Trollish.

Alyra inhaled, and cursed. A male Troll was what had her pinned. Most people thought that Trolls stank, but she had never thought so. Though, at the moment, it was _not_ what she wanted to be smelling. "Well, usually I know when I _have_ guests," she hissed back, arching her back and trying to reach the other dagger she had concealed within the fluff of her pillow. "You came uninvited."

His hand went from her throat to her other wrist, his legs pressing together and trapping hers between them. He chuckled, tilting his head and grinning. "Guess dat's true," he said. He shook his head, tossing the hood back. Then he leaned in, his face finally coming into view. Her lip curled back into a snarl, her split eyes flicking over his face. He was handsome for a Troll. Most would disagree, but Alyra had always had strange tastes.

"What the hell do you want?" Alyra spat, not a trace of fear in her eyes.

He considered her for several moments, tilting his head to the side, the bones clicking in his hair. "Hm, a few tings," he murmured. "Saw yer fight. Found ya in'trestin'." He gripped both her wrists with one hand, the other coming down to stroke some hair out of her face. She twisted her face away from his touch, unwanted shivers running through her from the cold of his fingers. She clenched her jaw, tendons standing out on her neck. "M' name's Zengu," he murmured, trailing a long, thick finger over her tense neck. "What's yers? An' why c'n ya speak my language?"

Alyra's teeth snapped together inches from Zengu's fingers as they brushed close to her mouth, and she growled; he only chuckled. " 'Cause I fuckin' studied!" she snapped, eyes narrowed. Every hair on her body prickled as he kept touching her, mapping out her face and shoulders. She started to buck again, twisting her hands.

Zengu grabbed her bandaged bicep, digging his blunt fingertips into the wounded flesh, making her cry out, and then go still. "Dat's a good girl," he said, eyes lidded and teeth bared in a grin. " 'M not gonna do anyt'in' _too_ bad, s' long as ya behave."

This only made her growl again, her eyes flashing. "What the hell do you want?" she whispered through clenched teeth, eyes flicking from him to her dagger, and back again.

Slowly, too slowly, the Troll uncurled his fingers from her arm, and sat up on the balls of his feet. He snapped up her dagger, and tossed her pillow far out of reach. He examined the blade, spinning it expertly before snatching it back to grip the handle, the blade pointing back towards his arm. "Nice blade," he murmured, looking down. She was rubbing her upper arm, glaring up at him. "Didn' I tell ya dat I found ya interestin'?"

Too smart to try anything—for the moment—Alyra just continued rubbing her arm, feeling the warmth of blood coming through the bandages; the cut had reopened. "You said 'a few' things," she muttered, her body tight as a wound spring. "And being interesting doesn't really tell me anything." She narrowed her eyes at him, looking him up and down. He wore an armor that she had never seen the like of, made of scales of black leather, each scale embossed with a different red design. Her eyes narrowed for a moment as she searched her memory. "Zandali protection runes," she murmured, a hand pointing loosely at his chest.

He blinked, glancing down at his armor, then back to Alyra. "So ya can read it too." He rested his forearms on his knees, looking around. He had taken a cursory survey of the room before, looking for traps, but now he took in the details. He wasn't too surprised to see part of a massive tree branch showing, the walls built around it. No doubt the rest of the house was like that; you couldn't clear all the branches away when building a tree house.

He took in more, his interest in the woman growing. Mounted on the walls were several tribal Troll masks, as well as several ancient weapons of the same culture. Her bookshelves were packed with all manner of volumes. Zandali: Advanced Speech, Desert Troll Culture, Forest Troll Culture, Trollish Magic, and Trollish Mating and Marriage Rituals were a few of the titles he deciphered with his moderate understanding of written Common. The last book made him grin slightly and raise a brow. "Ya interested in beddin' a Troll, Elfy?" he teased.

Her reaction was not what he expected. He had expected her to blush and curse at him for being a lewd bastard. Instead, her expression softened from anger, changing to something almost like… longing? Sadness? She looked away, and pulled her right arm close to her chest, wrapping her left hand around her wrist, rubbing something. Zengu's eyes narrowed, and he grabbed her right arm, yanking it free and pulling it up to his face. She opened her mouth to cry out, but stopped, deflating again and sighing.

Two long scars crisscrossed around her lower arm, winding from wrist to elbow; the sight of them made the Troll's eyes widen considerably. They were _marital_ scars from a _Trollish_ ceremony. He looked back and forth between Alyra and her arm, trying to absorb this new information. "Yer mated to a…?" He trailed off, his brows coming together into deep furrows.

Alyra's normal fire flared again in her eyes, and she yanked on her arm. He didn't let her go, and just kept staring at her. "Yeah, I was mated with a Troll, but look." She twisted her arm in his grasp, showing another, newer scar that ran from the back of her hand, all the way along the scars. "He's dead. Been dead for a while." She felt his grip loosen and she yanked free, scooting back and sitting up, her brows furrowed deeply.

The intensity of Zengu's gaze doubled, and he snatched her hand up again, though his grip was a bit gentler this time. He held her hand with both of his, his fingers dwarfing hers. He had heard of a few Trolls mating with Orcs in the distant past, but never with Elves or Humans, let alone a mix between the two. "What kinda Troll'd—?"

"Not your usual one!" Alyra snapped. "He'd been banished and turned up where I worked. He taught me his language." She pulled from him again, crawling around him and getting off the bed. "Not that it's any of your business." She looked down, and scowled at the muddy footprints on her floor. "Goddess damn," she muttered. "I forgot how messy you c'n be." She looked over her shoulder, finding Zengu standing now, the tips of his ears just a few inches from brushing the ceiling. "Tall too." That last part was a lie; she had never forgotten the way her mate had stood over her, making her feel even smaller than she was, but at the same time, more safe than she had ever felt before.

She closed her eyes, turning away and wrapping her arms about herself. Breathing in deeply, Zengu's scent washed over her, memories surging. She squeezed her eyes tight, clenching her jaw again. _'He smells like Bakko…' _ Pain that she had sought so hard to escape came back to her in a rush, and she started to shake, not with tears, but with anger. "Trolls are so bloody _proud_! Such stupid, stupid pride! All it ever does is—!"

Biting back the rest her words she sighed, opening her eyes. Turning to order the Troll from her home, she found that he stood directly behind her, and she bumped her nose against his chest. Startled, she pushed back, and then yelped as her wounded leg throbbed. "Fuck!"

Seeing her leg give out, Zengu bend down swiftly, slipping an arm around her waist and lifting her up. Her feet were well off the ground, her eyes level with his. She braced her hands on his chest, pushing back. He found himself wishing that he could feel the warmth of her, the softness of her breasts pressed up against his chest, without his armor or tunic getting in the way. Her scent took revenge on him, wrapping around him and filling his senses. She was freshly washed, but the delicate lily scent that wafted from her was not from any kind of soap, it was her own clean smell.

It was odd for Zengu to find a Human—Elf—attractive. He liked strong, powerful women, and while Alyra was indeed strong, she was tiny compared to most of his past conquests. Human and Elf women had always seemed so puny and delicate to him, always aiming to be slender and willowy. They often abhorred building muscle mass, nibbling at vegetables to keep thin. They all looked as if he could break them between two fingers like a twig.

But this one, this little half-Elf, had an entirely different body type. She wasn't thin, or willowy. Instead she was busty, toned, and compact, with wide hips that led into powerful—but not overly bulky—legs. Every inch of her was well toned and—at least in his eyes—perfectly shaped.

A purely male growl rumbled in the back of his throat, and his eyes narrowed at her. He turned and tossed her onto the bed. She bounced and yelped, a lock of hair falling into her face. She glared at him, and huffed, blowing away the hair and giving him a clear 'what the hell?' look. She watched as he dropped his cloak, a leather pack, and his knife belt. She started getting a bit nervous when he started unlacing his armor with quick, deft fingers.

"What are you doing?" she murmured, inching backwards. Daggers weren't the only weapons she kept hidden around her bed. She was almost always comfortable around Trolls, but this one had a rather unsettling quality about him. He seemed wilder than most, with an almost _detached_ kind of feeling. Her eyes followed his movements as he shed his breastplate and gauntlets, then a roughly made gray tunic.

He was as lean and well muscled as all Trolls were, and Alyra bit her lip; attractive too. Then she winced, eyes falling on a set of vicious scars across his belly. She knew all too well what had caused the injuries, as she had a similar set that ran down between her breasts. A raptor had gotten him, and by the looks of it, nearly killed him. "Ow…" she murmured, looking up at his face.

He didn't respond to her previous question or her latest statement, just continued to shed his armor until he was down to a pair of black leggings. Then his eyes leveled with hers, and she froze, speared by the intense gold gaze. Shivers ran down her spine and goose bumps prickled across her skin. She blushed deeply; she knew that look, even though no one had directed it at her in years. Desire was something she had long been without.

But he just stood there, blinking at her. He tilted his head, leaning in curiously for a moment, making Alyra lean back accordingly. Then he turned, kneeling down by his pack, exposing his back completely. Alyra looked back over her shoulder; she should attack and incapacitate him now, she knew that. However, while he wasn't totally peaceful—few Trolls were—he hadn't shown any real intent to harm her. She had been fooled before—she couldn't see through every lie—and was by no means a trusting person.

"Zengu," she said, hugging her legs up against her chest, and tilting her head. "What's your Clan name?"

"Don' have one, mon," he replied, rummaging through his bag before pulling out a green tunic and tugging it over his head. Then he brushed the subject aside, his body language leaving no doubt in Alyra's mind that his clan was not to be brought up again. "Ya still haven' told me _yer_ name, Elfy." He stood and turned, looking her up and down with lidded eyes. The little cotton shift she was wearing was very different from the gear she'd had on before. "Unless ya want me t' keep callin' ya 'Elfy'."

She rolled her eyes. "Fine!" she muttered. "Yer just gonna keep pestering me anyways…" She may not have been able to see through every lie that was told to her, but she was a fairly good judge of character. "Alyra D'rowenth. Now why the hell am I so damn interesting?" She peered shrewdly at him, determined to get a proper answer.

Zengu put his gauntlets back on, as well as the greaves. He set the rest of the armor next to his bag and cloak, standing up again. He hid a grin as Alyra inched even further back, coming to the edge of her mattress. He made a show of brushing off the calloused soles of his feet before he stepped onto the bed again, his eyes taking another sweep about the room before he started talking.

"Well there's the fact dat yer a cross between a Night Elf an' a Human livin' in Horde land all on yer own, far from any town or outpost," he said, tapping his knee with a finger. "Dat's odd. Yer a tiny little ting yet ya c'n move dat sword like a Tauren bull." He tapped another finger. "Also, and this one is new, ya were mated to a Troll." He tapped his last finger on his knee. "The fact dat ya speak fluent Zandali goes without sayin'."

Alyra yanked her blanket up around her shoulders, chewing her bottom lip; it was an old habit of hers. "So what?" she muttered, looking to the side. "I'm odd, what does that matter? There are lots of odd people in the world." She let out an exasperated sigh, and moved towards him, only to get off the bed and stand. "I should behead you for breaking into my home." She walked across the floor towards her closet. "And if you saw my fight, you should have helped."

Zengu scoffed. "I wasn' in'trested 'til ya won," he said. His eyes traveled over the female yet again, lingering on the crimson tattoos. "Looks like ya've been fightin' like dat for a while."

"Yeah… 'a while' would be accurate," Alyra said offhandedly, opening her closet doors. He noticed that the doors were actually hand carved, covered in depictions of ancient Troll legends and heroes. "Woulda been a Hunter but I'm better with a blade." She frowned, and pulled a lamp from on top of the closet. She lit the wick, and held it up with one hand as she sorted through the clothes hanging there.

The flickering golden light illuminated an array of vastly different garments. There were several gowns with elaborate embroidery, as well as the roughly made trousers and tunics of a farm worker, along with everything in between. Zengu watched as she tossed out a breast band, a long, loose tunic of a deep green, a black sash, and a pair of cropped brown leggings. Closing the doors, the half-Elf moved to the center of the room, standing on her tiptoes and jumping to hang the lamp from a hook on the ceiling. It took her a few tries, but she got it eventually.

Alyra gathered up the clothes in her arms, wincing slightly. "Goddess, I hate Orcs," she muttered, mostly to herself. "I hope the Healer isn't too busy tomorrow."

"C'mere," Zengu said, getting to his feet. She looked to him again, but did no such thing. He pulled a parcel tied with string from his pack and walked towards her. "Strip."

_That_ got a flustered reaction from Alyra. Her cheeks flushed and she scowled at him. "I'll do no such thing!" she snapped, hands on her hips. She looked so amusingly furious. "It's bad enough you break into my home, but now you—!"

His hand over her mouth cut her off. "I carry healin' bandages for when I get really thrashed," he said, eyes lidded and holding up the package. "Stop bein' such a pain and strip, Elfy."

She stared at the parcel with a skeptical gaze, and raised an eyebrow. He still didn't seem to be lying, but she by no means trusted him. But her body was starting to ache again, and she knew it would only get worse. She couldn't travel at night in her condition, and daybreak was a long ways off. She had already cleaned the wounds and made sure that they wouldn't fester, but healing bandages… they would be a great help.

She peered up at Zengu, eyes narrowed. "What do you want in return?" she asked suspiciously.

He laughed. "Smart girl," he said. He tapped his chin, pretending to consider what he wanted as a payment. He already knew. He met her eyes again, and reached out, tapping her lips. "This."

Her brows furrowed, a bit of that adorable blush creeping back. "My mouth?" There were plenty of things her mouth could do, from reciting poetry to swearing, and from smiling to more… _explicit_ things.

"A kiss," Zengu said, his grin reminding Alyra of a predator smiling at cornered prey. "I be wantin' a kiss from ya."

"Kiss?" Her eyes widened. She hadn't kissed anyone since her mate had died. She narrowed her eyes, suspicious again. "Just what _kind_ of kiss?"

"Any kind I want," he said, voice low like the purr of a big cat. He started opening the package, and Alyra swallowed. He knew he had her, and that she would give in. Any smart person would. Bandages spelled to be healing were of great value to anyone, and while she did have some gold set aside, she wasn't rich, by any means.

Alyra swore colorfully in Dwarvish, tossing her clothes to the floor. "Fine!" She grabbed the hem of her shift and yanked it over her head. He was both mildly surprised and pleased at the fact she didn't try to cover her now bare breasts, instead grabbing one of her daggers. She started to cut off her own bandages, walking over to the door. "I'll get something to lay out on the floor in case I bleed. Blood's a pain to clean up."

Confident that she wasn't going to fetch another weapon or to attempt an escape, Zengu retrieved the lamp from the ceiling sitting down on the floor. He would play nice for now, but it wouldn't last for long. He wanted to get all the enjoyment he could out of this. The same predatory grin as before spread across his face. He hadn't come across something this interesting in a while. The world had become so boring, and people rarely caught his attention any more. But this woman, and her past…

The grin faded and his brows came together. He had never heard of a Troll mating with any Alliance race. They rarely even mated outside their own. He would have asked the Troll in question directly, but he was no longer in the picture; he was dead. Now the only one he could get his answers from on the subject was Alyra herself, and she wasn't very well disposed towards him at the moment. It didn't matter though; he'd get his answers. He could have been a very successful interrogator if he had wanted to; he hadn't failed to get an answer in quite some time.

Alyra came back into the room, finding Zengu sitting on the floor next to her bed, several rolls of bandages set out in front of him. His eyes lingered on her breasts, and she rolled her eyes, walking over to him and spreading out a black towel. She crossed her legs under her and snatched up her breast band, putting it on. Her bandages were gone, the wounds and the inflamed skin around them exposed. Her arm where he had grabbed her was bleeding again, little rivulets of red running down her arm.

"C'mon, closer, I won' bite," Zengu said, curling a finger towards himself. Rolling her eyes, Alyra scooted closer, facing him. He lifted her bleeding arm, wiping it clean with a square of fabric. Then he put a pad over the cuts, and started wrapping. Alyra winced, biting her bottom lip as she felt the sting of the healing magic. She had never liked the feeling of being healed, but they had been necessary for her, and so she had gotten used to it… for the most part, anyways.

She was surprised by how tender he was, wrapping the bandages firmly but taking notice of her reactions; he never wrapped them too tight. Rather than relax, she became even more suspicious of him. It was a common practice to act friendly in order to gain someone's trust. If this Zengu were 'interested' in her, he would have questions. And they were probably questions she wouldn't want to answer. A frown pulled at her lips; she wouldn't let him get anything from her.

After he finished wrapping her wounds, she'd have to find some way to get rid of him. She didn't want to kill him—she had never liked killing without good reason—but she didn't want him in her life; she didn't want anyone in her life. She exhaled softly. _'I'll figure something out…'_

Zengu didn't say anything as he worked, instead focusing on the feel of what he was doing. The half-Elf's skin was incredibly soft where it wasn't calloused from the use of weapons. Again he wanted to feel her skin pressed up against him, her body moving rhythmically with his… He sighed. Maybe later. He was not ashamed of his desire, but felt rather odd about feeling it for someone like Alyra. She was most certainly _not_ his usual type.

"Done," he finally said. He looked up, only to find that she had fallen asleep sitting up, her head hanging forward and body swaying lightly back and forth. Zengu prodded her with a finger, but she didn't react. "Oi… Elfy!" He shook her by the shoulders, but got only a slightly different result.

Alyra groaned softly before she flopped forward, body slumping against the Troll's chest. She inhaled, and then let out a sigh of utter contentment. Her arms wrapped around his stomach, fisting in the fabric of his tunic. She mumbled something that sounded like a name under her breath, but Zengu couldn't quite catch it. He shook her shoulder again, and got sworn at in his own language. He got over his surprise quite quickly; some people got tired after being healed, and the bandages probably had a similar effect.

He forcefully unwrapped her arms, getting sworn at again. He lifted her up—getting grabbed onto again in the process—and put her back on her bed. But she still clung to him, refusing to let go. He tugged at her wrists, but paused at the feeling of raised flesh under his hand. He looked down, staring at the scars again. The idea still bothered him. Maybe he should leave and find out if any of his sources knew anything. But for the moment… he was sort of stuck.

Grumbling under his breath, Zengu lay down on the bed as well, finding that he didn't have to scrunch up to fit; the bed was built for someone of his proportions. When he had settled with her in the bed, Alyra released her desperate hold on him, instead pressing herself into the line of his body, her head on his shoulder. He wasn't used to sleeping in a bed, so it took him quite a while to get comfortable. No matter how he tossed and rolled, however, she kept glued to him, refusing to give up whatever kind of comfort he was giving her.

When he finally settled on his side and stayed that way, the sleeping woman fitted herself against him, her back to his chest. Then she let out a soft little groan, a smile tugging at her lips. Zengu knew that she was small for a human, but putting her so close to him made her just seem all the smaller.

"If only ya were awake…" he murmured, dropping his arm over her side. "I'd really give ya a reason t' groan."

000

Alyra always awoke feeling groggy after a healing, and her vision blurred heavily as her eyelids fluttered before lifting. The sun was shining in through the window to the left of her bed, making her blink and rub her eyes. The arm around her waist tightened as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes and stretched. Then her head whipped around, staring into Zengu's sleepy yellow eyes. In the blink of an eye, a dagger was at his neck, and her face was red.

"What… are you doing… in my bed?" she growled, rolling over and pushing back from him, one hand braced on his chest. She took a quick survey of her body, feeling only the soft ache of her healing wounds; he didn't seem to have done anything other than bandage her up. But still… why the hell was he laying in her bed with her? She pressed the dagger to his throat a bit harder, drawing a bit of blood. "Well?"

He showed no sign of distress, merely blinked a few times against the morning sun. "You fell 'sleep and wouldn' leggo of my shirt," he answered simply. "Wasn' worth the trouble t' wake ya."

She would have denied his claim, but she had done such a thing more than once in the past. Though why she would have latched onto _him,_ of all people, was a mystery. She didn't trust him in the slightest, and wasn't all that fond of him either. He didn't make her feel safe, or content, or happy, or anything good. Well… not so much the last part. It had felt good—for that brief moment—to have another body to press up against. With a huff, she stowed the dagger again and pushed herself into a sitting position.

"You're a pain in the ass," she declared frankly, running her fingers through her hair. She encountered quite a few tangles and made a face. She went to climb over the Troll sprawled out in her bed, but she was grabbed and yanked back down as Zengu rolled to hover over her on his hands and knees.

"Ya still owe me a payment, Elfy," he said softly.

Alyra crossed her arms over her chest. "I thought you asked my name so you wouldn't have to call me that," she said. "And I'm not even an Elf, anyways."

Zengu considered her human eyes, and the skin that also marked her as part human. She didn't look anything like the half-Elves that he had met before. She looked more Human than anything else, and that only made his attraction to her feel even stranger. He had found Night Elves attractive before, but never a Human woman. He shrugged.

"Elfy suits you," he said, tweaking the blue tip of one of her ears.

"Oi!" She met him with a scowl and smacked his hand away. Then she became properly aware of their position. She was lying under him, dwarfed and trapped. She crossed her arms over her chest again, only pushing her bust up higher and making her cleavage deeper. "Okay, okay… What kinda damn kiss do ya want?"

He grinned, baring his fangs. "A lover's kiss," he said, voice low and rumbling. "I want ya t' kiss me like ye would yer lover."

Alyra fought not to blush, but her cheeks tinted with pink all the same. She had expected him to ask for more than a simple pressing of lips, but the way he had worded his request made her like the idea even less. She hadn't kissed anyone—_anyone_—since Bakko. But she _had_ said she would, and she didn't like going back on her word. A bitch she may have been, but she wasn't scum.

She met his eyes with her own, and reached up, sinking her fingers into his thick, coarse hair. She pulled slightly, and he complied. She paused when he was a few inches away, her grip loosening and nerve faltering; she really didn't want to do this. She shifted her grip to his one broken tusk and pulled him the rest of the way down, her eyes closing.

He cupped the back of her head, angling his head so that his tusks didn't hurt her and to deepen the kiss, tongue flicking at her lips. She opened her mouth to him, responding slowly at first. Then she grabbed the back of his neck with one hand, the other at the back of his head. Her tongue rubbed against his, mouth moving hungrily. He grinned against her, responding with equal fervor.

Her mouth tasted spicy and wild, and as he lowered himself to press to her, he felt the heat of her skin through his shirt. He cursed the garment up and down, then felt a warm, calloused hand slip under the fabric, pushing it up as Alyra ran her fingers over his abdomen, tracing the dips and curves of his muscles, her other hand going through his hair, fondling a bone charm as she kissed back. His body was just starting to light up, blood rushing south, when she broke the kiss, pushing him back.

"Th-there," she said breathlessly. "There's your kiss." She removed her hand—it almost felt reluctant—from under his shirt, putting it against his chest next to the other. "Now get… off."

The words, "you'll be the one getting off, Elfy," ran through his mind, but he kept them to himself, staying where he was. He didn't want to move. He could still feel the warmth of her body, her scent and taste filling him, making him hard. That same deep, masculine, and predatory growl rumbled up from his chest, and he grabbed her wrists, holding her down as he stared at her with a piercing gaze. Yet again she made him want to bed her, to make her scream and writhe for him. To make her—no. He sat up, letting go of her.

Alyra scooted out from under him and quickly got off the bed, grabbing up the clothes that she had pulled out the night before. She grabbed a few other things from the closet as well, and then rushed out of her bedroom. She hurried through her training room, and then towards the ladder that led down to the second floor, where the bathroom was. It had taken her some time—and quite a bit of money—to get pipes running up to her home in the tree, but she had done it all the same. And thanks to a generous Mage, she didn't have to heat the water over her stove any more.

A moment of peace spread over her as she entered the large bathroom, and she smiled. _'I've got a damn good set up here, don't I?'_ she thought, smile widening. _'I'm lucky as all hell…'_ Then she heard the Troll moving around upstairs, and the smile vanished. _'Or maybe not.'_ She walked over to the very large tub that was set up in a corner against part of a branch, as well as another window. It was made of smooth stone, and there was a lower tier of it at the bottom, about the size of a normal tub, but somewhat more shallow.

She couldn't take a proper bath with the bandages, but she could fill up the little tub a bit and wash somewhat. Grabbing what she needed from the shelf carved into the massive branch, she started some water, waiting until it was warm enough before she plugged the drain. All she had to take down to the water with her was some soap, shampoo, and a washcloth. Human women had been shaving their legs—and other parts of themselves—for a while now, but Elves had next to no body hair, and Alyra had inherited that gene from her father.

It made her feel odd at times, but as with many things, she had gotten used to it. As the water ran, she stripped off her breast band and loincloth, throwing them over the side to land with rest of her clothes. She only had to wait a little while longer before there was enough water. Turning off the flow, she sat down and then eased into the little pool. She sighed in pure, contented joy as the steaming water touched her skin.

"Aaah, that's wonderful," she murmured, closing her eyes and soaking her washcloth. She found herself caring less and less about getting the bandages wet as she eased more of herself into the water. She had forgotten about it completely as she soaked the washcloth, then wrung it out over her stomach. She did this several more times all over herself before she dipped the bar of soap into the water and began lathering it over her body.

She was so engrossed in her washing that she didn't hear the stealthed Troll sneak into the bathroom. She couldn't see him, and at the moment, couldn't smell him. Zengu took in the sparsely decorated but still luxurious room with a sweeping gaze. There was an extremely well crafted wooden vanity next to a half-closed window to his right and a privy to his left. Plumbing was _not_ something you saw every day, but Zengu would investigate it later. He sat down at the edge of the large tub—it was more like a small swimming pool—and began to enjoy the sight in front of him.

And what a wonderful sight it was. A bit of the sun light from the window fell across Alyra's body, catching on the water droplets and making them—and her wet skin—glisten like little jewels. The shimmering reflections from the water played over her face, water dripping from the hair she had just dunked under the surface. She began working shampoo into her hair, the little braids from before undone and the feathers nowhere to be seen.

Again blood rushed south and Zengu was hard, erection straining in his pants. He bit back his growl, eyes going lidded as he watched. She worked slowly, almost as if she _knew_ he was there and was putting on a show for him. But she hadn't registered his presence; she was simply enjoying the leisure of getting clean.

She scooted down and put her hair under the water, scrubbing it until she deemed it clean enough. She sat up, standing slowly and stretching her arms above her head. She unknowingly turned to face Zengu, brushing her hands over herself to get off any excess water. He bit back a growl, his hands tightening into fists. He hadn't lusted after a woman so hard in a long time. But then… he hadn't _had_ a woman in even longer.

Alyra frowned, looking around her. "Damn, forgot a towel." She climbed from the tub, coming up a few feet away from the invisible voyeur. She paused, sniffing the air. Her eyes narrowed to slits, anger rolling through her.

Zengu hadn't planned on staying invisible forever, and wasn't too upset that she had noticed him. He dropped his stealth, fading into view. He stood over her, arms crossed loosely over his chest. He let her see him looking her up and down, lingering at the small triangle of hair between her legs and at the smooth flesh of her breasts, going slowly up her neck to her face. "Can ya really blame me?" he said, flashing her that shiver inducing predatory grin. "I only got a peek in da dark last time; I wanted t' see more, an' look at m' leisure."

Moving with practiced grace, Alyra lifted one leg, then spun on the heel of the other, slamming her foot into Zengu's side and making him stagger back. She darted away, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around herself. Her face burned as she tucked in the edge, holding it tightly around her torso. But it wasn't just that her face was burning. Her body was filled with heat and want, the fire ignited by Zengu's look. She could still feel him watching her. She whipped around to yell at him, only to find him inches from her.

"Oh sod off!" She jerked back, coming up against the wall.

He just stepped closer, eyes blazing into hers; she couldn't look away. Zengu leaned down, putting a hand on either side of Alyra's body, trapping her between him and the wall. He could smell an answering desire coming from her, and he brought his face before hers, the tip of his unbroken tusk just brushing her cheek.

"Y'know, most women wouldn' 've let me see 'em in da first place," he growled. "But ya hardly seemed t' care that I saw ya last night."

Alyra swallowed hard, holding her head high. "I'm proud of my body," she retorted softly. "I don't have anything to be ashamed of."

"So why hide now?" Zengu whispered, tracing his fingers down his neck.

She bit back a little groan at the soft touch, closing her eyes for a moment before she opened them and answered. "You—you weren't staring at me like a hungry saber before," she hissed. It had been so long since a man had wanted her, had pursued her. It felt… _good_ to be desired again, to be lusted after. She bit her lip, hating the liquid heat burning in her lower body. She closed her eyes, trying to shut out the intensity of the Troll's look. But she still felt it, his hand still caressing the skin of her neck and shoulder. "S-stop that," she muttered, grabbing his wrist.

"No," he said simply, grinning. He leaned down pushing her head to the side, exhaling softly against her damp neck and watching goose bumps spread across her skin. " 'Cause you don' really want me to, do ya?"

He nipped the flesh of her neck, and she gasped. Alyra grabbed his shoulders, her blunt fingertips digging into the dense muscle before she shoved him, _hard_. "Yes, I do! The only reason you're not on the floor is because you gave me those—what the hell are you laughing at?" She planted her hands on her hips, glaring.

"Ya really are just too much fun," Zengu laughed, running his fingers through his hair. "Glad I noticed ya. See ya later, Ali." He turned and walked from the room, pushing the door closed behind him.

Alyra felt a slight twitch in her left eyelid as she stared after the Troll, frustration boiling up in her chest. Several decades ago, she might have stomped her foot and shouted in frustration, but she had grown up some since then, at least a little bit. She squeezed her eyes shut and forced herself to take deep, even breaths—in and out, in and out—until she felt that she was sufficiently calm to go about the rest of her morning tasks. She patted her bandages dry, taking her time to make sure they still held in place before she turned to her clothes.

On went her loincloth and the skintight brown leggings, and she tied the points to a pair of hoes of the same color. She wrapped the breast band about her bosom, and then pulled on the long green tunic. It hung above her knees; over this she pulled an intricately embroidered vest of a darker shade of green, having abandoned the sash. She grabbed a brush from the vanity as she walked to the door. Her ears twitched ever so slightly in the direction of a sudden creaking from outside the door.

"Zengu…" she muttered, yanking the brush through her hair a bit more roughly than she usually did. She felt the twitch in her eyelid again as she left the bathroom and caught sight of the Troll. He was standing in the foyer, arms crossed over his chest, wearing that same smug, pleased look. "Why the hell are you still here?" Alyra muttered, still brushing her hair as she headed towards the kitchen. "Haven't you had enough fun?"

"Not even close, Ali," he said, looking both mirthful and serious at the same time.

The expression made Alyra frown slightly, mouth pulling to one side and brows furrowing. He was a very odd man indeed, and she was finding it a bit more difficult to be angry with him. She put her hands on her hips and frowned at him for several moments. She should be pissed as hell, but something in his attitude just blocked her rage. He was finding joy in little things that amused him, and following that joy, no matter where it came from. There was something in that that Alyra could respect, even if she didn't want to.

"I hope you get a rash on your dick," she muttered, walking past him to the kitchen.

"So ya could rub soothing lotion on it?" Zengu said, following on her heels and grinning like a fool. Okay, maybe respect was the wrong word. There was that twitch in her eyelid again; was that going to become a regular thing?

"No," she retorted, without missing a beat or looking back at him, "so that you can't get laid." She resisted the urge to look back for his reaction, striding across the floor towards the stove that both powered the oven and kept the first floor warm. It was fall, and the mornings could be rather chilly. Her boots were already there, and she opened the grate, peering in. There were quite a few glowing coals left, and she raked them into a pile with the poker, going over to the wood box for some logs.

Zengu watched her from the entryway, leaning against the doorframe, his head tilted. She winced only a little as she hefted two large logs and one smaller one, carrying them over to the stove with ease. As she loaded in the wood, he took a moment to examine the stove itself. On the top there was a flat expanse where things could be fried. It was perfectly clean, with a light shine to it like one would find on any frying pan. There was an oven as well, with a smaller place to build another fire for baking underneath.

It was a pretty good set up for just one person, and Zengu wondered for a moment if someone else had ever lived with her. If anyone had, all signs of him or her were gone. What brief scouting he had done had shown no signs of another inhabitant, past or present. He _had_ found a rather extensive weapon collection, containing more than a few old tribal items from his own race. And some of those had been set apart from the others; they were obviously special.

"What's fer breakfast?" he asked as she closed the grate again.

Alyra gave him a scathing look. "_I_ am having duck eggs, toast, and sausages," she said, turning away and heading towards a door—it was made of metal and had two heavy locks—at the end of the room. "You can go kill some innocent woodland animal if you wanna eat." She undid both locks, and Zengu felt a rush of cold magic as she opened the door. He moved quickly over and peered into the room after her as she entered.

The illusion to keep people away wasn't the only thing that Alyra had asked of the Mage. The room where she stored her food and drink was magicked to stay cold, some shelves more so than others. Eyes on her back and her breath misting in the air before her, the half-Elf strode along one shelf, picking up two eggs, a few sausage links and some bread, obviously home-baked. She walked past Zengu, closing the door behind her and walking over to the counter.

He spotted a chair and brought it over, settling down next to the stove. He watched in silence as Alyra busied herself with breakfast, frying the eggs and sausages and toasting the bread by opening a small circle on the top and holding the slices over the opening with some tongs. The smells of the simple meal tickled the Troll's senses; he had come to enjoy human food over his lifetime, and had always liked the simple things.

Closing his eyes, he breathed deeply, a smile of simple happiness curving his lips. Alyra noticed the look, and paused, spatula in hand. The expression was so different from the others she had seen on his face, and she felt and odd pang in her chest, like something tightened and rose to her throat before falling into her stomach.

She shook it off, cheeks a bit pink as she buttered her toast and put it on the plate. The scrambled duck eggs quickly followed them. She picked up the sausages and turned back to the plate, only to find one piece of toast and half the eggs gone. Her eyes flashed to Zengu, who was chewing on something and licking off his fingers.

Alyra promptly smacked him upside the head with her metal spatula.


	2. In Which an Assassin Makes a Mistake

_A/N: Hey there. Here we have chapter two! I'm glad so many people have been reading. I live on reviews though! There are some characters in here that aren't mine. They belong to the lovely and inspiring Tseer. Go read Apoch and Iscah's story!_

_EDIT: I have edited the first two chapters a bit and and I am now posting the changes! Still, go read Apoch and Iscah's story!_

_CHAPTER TWO: In Which an Assassin Makes a Mistake_

As she ate, Alyra did her very, _very_ best to ignore Zengu's eyes on her. But it was becoming increasingly difficult. He watched her with the same intensity as ever, and almost as if he were expecting her to do something, and was simply waiting for it. The constant staring made her feel uneasy and self-conscious, and she ate faster, putting the rest of the egg on her toast and wolfing it down. She then busied herself with putting on her boots, tucking the ends of her leggings into them, and lacing them tightly. And _still_ she felt his eyes boring into her back.

She felt her eye starting to twitch again, and she instantly pressed a hand to it, glaring over her shoulder at Zengu. He merely winked at her, making her want to break a plate over his head. But she liked her plates too much to waste them as weapons, so she collected the dish and stalked over to the sink, pumping up some water and rinsing it. She took deep—supposedly calming—breaths as she washed, going through her work slowly.

And all the while, Zengu watched her, thinking. He wouldn't get anywhere with his questions if they stayed in the house all day. He stood, walking past her and going back to the stairs. He heard Alyra calling after him, but ignored her for the moment. He retrieved and closed up his pack, putting on his breastplate and carrying the rest of his armor back down with him.

Alyra met him with a suspicious gaze. "Would telling you that you have to leave do any good?" she said.

"Dat would be a waste o' time, 'Lyra," he answered, sitting down and starting to lace his thigh guards on. "But I got some errands I need t' be runnin'." Next he belted on matching leather scale loincloth and his knife belt. "I'll be comin' back t' see ya, though, so don' be goin' anywheres." He swung on his cloak and pack, pulling up the hood. He turned away, then whipped back around and grabbed Alyra by the front of her shirt, yanking her to him, so that she had to stand on her toes. "Tryin' to avoid me, or keep me out… would be a very bad idea, 'Lyra," he growled softly. " 'Cause I _will_ find ya. I ain't no hunter, but I be more dan able to find anyone I'm lookin' fer."

He let go of her, and vanished from the room, leaving Alyra behind. She let out a sigh of relief, but paused as she felt another emotion bubbling underneath. Was she disappointed that he was gone? He had helped her after all…

"No!" she snapped, going to the ladder and climbing it swiftly. _'I'm gonna go find a Mage in town and get them to cast an active protection spell around this place!'_ Even if Zengu _did_ come back, he wouldn't be able to get in again. He was more trouble than he was worth, and he was causing all kinds of uncomfortable feelings that Alyra didn't want to bother with. She wanted a simple life where she could do as she pleased, _alone_. She had shared her life before, and while it had been nice for a while, it had ended in pain and heartbreak. She wouldn't go through that again. Not if she could help it.

000

Once more clad in her—freshly patched—armor and with her sword now in a sheath at her side, Alyra left her house locked up tight. The bag that now took up her back was packed with spare clothes, rations, a couple of maps and charts, a blade cleaning and sharpening kit, a good amount of money, and a few other things. A bedroll and two blankets were rolled up and strapped to the bottom of the pack. She didn't often go to town, as it was quite far away and there was always the danger of people finding out who she was. The town was mostly Horde, and while there were a few other races there, they were never treated very well.

The journey usually took a little longer than a day with minimal rest stops, and the last part wasn't a problem for Alyra. She'd been living for well over two centuries and was used to long treks. She set off at a quick pace, making sure that her hood was up and that her long ears were held down by her hair. She had developed a way of braiding it that kept the ears from being noticed. She had become extremely cautious since the disaster ten years ago, some of it bordering on paranoia. But she had also found that being a little paranoid could mean the difference between life and death.

000

Marith and Marika stood back to back, clasping each other's hands. Marika's ebony hair tangled with Marith's snow white locks, the wind gusting their midnight blue gowns about their legs. Their eyelids were lowered, eyes dancing under the lids. Their pouty pink lips moved quickly, little whispers of some forgotten language carried off on the wind. They were listening, pale skin flushed from hours of exposure to the cool fall breeze.

Their servant, a male Blood Elf called Terrin, held their cloaks in his arms, watching his mistresses nervously. They had been standing in the cold for so long, out alone on the hill without any kind of shelter. He wanted to run to them and wrap them in warmth—they had always brought out something protective in him—and make sure that they didn't fall ill. But they had ordered him not to disturb them while they did their 'Searching'. While he wanted to protect them, Terrin also feared the twin girls.

And indeed, they looked to be nothing more than girls of fourteen or fifteen, thin and delicate. All except for their eyes. Their eyes were an unearthly violet, and could pierce into even the strongest of minds. They had read into Terrin's past and seen his sins, seen everything that he ever thought and done. They knew everything about him, and this was another reason that he feared the twins. Though they had never said anything, something made him worry that they would expose him.

Suddenly, the two girls collapsed, both of them falling to the ground in the same moment, an echoing whimper escaping their lips. Terrin ran to them at once, wrapping them in their cloaks and pulling both into his arms.

"Lady Marith! Lady Marika!" He looked from one to the other, his glowing green eyes flickering with worry. They were both breathing, chest rising and falling quickly; at least Terrin knew that they were alive. "My Ladies, please wake up!" His worry for them was genuine, but the feeling always made his body feel strange, as if his chest was tightening up against something.

It was Marith that opened her eyes first, and brushed a few strands of snowy hair out of her face. "Do not fear, Terrin…" she breathed.

"…we are well." That was Marika's voice, and he looked over to find that her eyes were open as well. They both sat up, smoothing their hair back and getting slowly to their feet. "Did anyone see us?"

Terrin helped them to their feet, making sure that their warm, waterproof cloaks were securely fastened. "No, my Lady, there was no one," Terrin said. "We were alone. Were you… successful?"

Marith smiled, pulling up her hood and smiling a smile that was made purely of ice and biting wind. "Yes," she said, the tone of her voice making her manservant tremble slightly. "We found the last piece. It is in the possession of some half-breed Elf." She tucked another lock of hair behind her ear, sharing an eerie smile with her sister.

"They will be sent to Ashenvale," they breathed in unison.

000

Vosh'zall was a very old Troll shaman. Her white hair was long and braided with beads and charms. Her multicolored robe hung over her hunched frame, multiple belts and sashes around her waist holding all kinds of pouches, sacred daggers, and trinkets. Her earlobes were long, stretched by wide, circular stones. Her nose was pierced twice, with many more charms in her ears.

She had answered many of Zengu's questions in the past. Not only was she a prophetic shaman, but she also had hundreds of information sources all over Azeroth, both in the Alliance and the Horde. She herself lived in the middle of the forest, secluded from everyone in a small network of caves that she kept well furnished. She was at home when Zengu arrived, fading into view as he dropped his stealth.

The old shaman was crouched outside over a bubbling pot, her back to the Rogue. He opened his mouth to announce himself, but Vosh beat him to it. "Ye should know by now, Little Zengu," she said in her aged, cracked voice. "Ah c'n always tell when ye get here. Ye make t' much noise."

The younger Troll narrowed his eyes, frowning as he walked around to squat on the other side of the fire that was heating the pot. "Dat's crap, Vosh," he said, "an' ye know it." He pulled his hood back, sniffing the air; whatever was cooking smelled quite tasty. "I got some questions for ya."

"Do ye ever come if ye don't?" Vosh said, lifting her stirring spoon to her thin lips and sipping at it, smacking her lips. "Mmm…"

"I wanna know if ya know anythin' about a Troll matin' with a half-Elf Human," Zengu said, scratching his chin. "Or if ya know anythin' about a half-Elf called 'Alyra D'rowenth'."

Vosh'zall blinked, putting the spoon back in the pot and looking up at her visitor. "D'rowenth, ye say?" she murmured. "Tha' was th' name of a noble fam'ly that lost everythin' a couple centuries back… This 'Lyra must be a part o' dat fam'ly." She watched Zengu intently, taking careful note of every little bit of movement. "An' as far as the matin'…. Ah _may_ 'ave heard a little somethin'." She lifted another spoonful to her lips and slurped, taking her time as she considered the taste, falling silent.

Zengu stared at her, waiting for her to continue. He almost wanted to hear that what Alyra had said was all a lie, and that she had just made up the story. But why would she have made it up? What would she serve to gain from pretending that she had once been mated to a Troll, but that he had since died? It wouldn't do her any good in any situation that he could think of. Vosh stayed quiet, adding some herbs to the pot and stirring. Finally, Zengu couldn't take any more.

"Well? Whaddaya know?" he pressed, peering at her.

Again, Vosh's eyes lifted up, watching him intently, reading him. "Dere was a ceremony few decades ago," she said. "Ye'know, dis is a mighty odd ting t' ask 'bout, Zen."

Her eyes narrowed slightly, and the look flickering in them told Zengu that there was more. But he also knew Vosh'zall well enough to know that she was at the point where she wasn't going to say any more. He sighed, and straightened up. "I heard a rumor, dat's all," he said, scratching the back of his head. "Thought it was strange."

_'Lyin' t' me be stupid, Zengu,' _Vosh thought, a frown pulling at the wrinkled corners of her mouth. _'Yer far too easy t' read.'_ But she didn't say anything, and just looked back at the stew, signaling that the conversation is over. _'But Bakko was right, ah guess… He said someone like ye would be askin' 'bout 'im or 'Lyra someday…'_ As Zengu turned and walked off, fading out of sight, the shaman lifted her head to the sky. _'Ye really 'ave gotten dat pretty lil' thing into a big mess, 'aven't ye?'_

000

The day was drawing to a close, and Alyra smiled as she slowed her pace, turning in the direction of the sound of flowing water. It was a sound that she had always liked, even before it had meant that she wouldn't die of dehydration. The stream was a small offshoot of the Falfarren River, and she had come across it several times; it was always clean, clear, and safe to drink.

When the little brook came into view, she smiled again. Coming to its edge, she dropped her pack and her cloak on the ground beside her before plopping down onto the grass. She closed her eyes, ears twitching slightly as she listened to the forest around her, checking for any possible threat. All she heard were the animals, the wind through the trees and plants, and the running of the stream. Satisfied that she was safe, Alyra unlaced her grieves and the armor for her thighs.

Then she took off her boots and hoes, setting them all in a neat pile beside her pack and cloak. She refused to take off her sword though, instead keeping it up and out of the way as she sank her feet into the cool water. Goose bumps instantly ran up her legs and she shivered. But she smiled anyways, wiggling her toes happily. A few curious fish strong enough to keep from being swept away by the current, advanced and nibbled at her digits, making her laugh. It was a pure, light sound, which had once had the power to make everyone else in the room light up with joy. But Alyra only laughed when she was alone now.

She lingered at the stream for several moments before she put her hoes and boots back on, and began setting up camp. She would have set a small fire, but she was still too wary because of the patrol. Judging by the weather, and sky overhead, there was a slight chance of rain. She ventured away from the stream, searching out a tree with dense leaves to shelter under, in case it did rain after all. It didn't take too long to find a suitable tree, and soon enough, she had her bedroll and blankets laid out.

She removed all her armor save for her gauntlets and grieves, setting her boots and her sword beside her, and her usual dagger under her pillow; in this case, a folded shirt. She pulled her canteen out, taking a few sips of the cool water. Then she pulled out a thick strip of jerked venison, tearing a piece away with her teeth and chewing as the sun slowly lowered through the sky, turning the clouds all shades of orange, red, purple, and gold.

Alyra breathed deeply, her eyes half closing as she listened, the birds singing their last few songs as they settled into their nests for the night. But she also heard the distant howling of wolves, and this made her frown, eyes opening. A fire would keep the animals and bay, and it would keep her warmer… She sat in thought for several moments, a frown pulling down the corners of her mouth. She didn't like the idea of being attacked by wolves, and they didn't have much of a fondness for fire.

Finally making up her mind, she grumbled under her breath and got to her feet, finishing her meager dinner. She set about gathering firewood and kindling, coming back when she had enough for the night. Using one of the small logs she'd found, she dug a small pit and lined it with some rocks. After some coaxing, she had a small fire going by the time the sun had finally set.

The hooting of owls and the scurrying of things through the underbrush, every so often pierced by a chorus of wolf-song, replaced the twittering of songbirds and chattering of squirrels. It wasn't that she didn't like wolves; she actually found them quite beautiful and majestic. The fact of the matter was simply that she was in their territory at night, if they found her in her sleep, she might get hurt, and they would likely die. She wasn't being arrogant—she was only a bit proud—she just knew that if animals came and attacked her, she would have to kill them to stop them.

"Life really is a bloody, sodding mess," she muttered, pulling one of her blankets about her shoulders as she sat cross-legged before the fire, feeing it a few smaller branches.

"No one ever said dat life was fair, 'Lyra," a voice said.

Alyra already had her dagger in one hand and was reaching for sword with the other, when Zengu dropped his stealth, appearing on the other side of the flames. They illuminated his face behind his hood, painting the striking features with orange-gold light and shadow. Alyra would have stabbed her dagger into the dirt if the grit of the earth hadn't been so bad for the blade.

"Goddess dammit!" she hissed. "I really should just gut and skin you!" she said with narrowed eyes, pointing at him with the weapon. "And not necessarily in that order!" She only got grinned at, and she sighed, putting the dagger back under her 'pillow'. "What do you want _now_?"

Zengu pulled a flask from the inside of his cloak and unscrewed the cap, taking a swig. "Just gonna follow ya," he said casually, taking another sip before stowing the flask. "Didn' I tell ya dat I found ya in'trestin'?"

"Yeah, but you also haven't asked me any questions yet," she said. "I may not have gone through school, but I ain't stupid." She reached back and pulled out the hairpins that kept her braids over her ears, rubbing and massaging them lightly as they came free. "I know that if a person finds something interesting, they usually wanna learn more about it. And you haven't tried to learn anything about me."

He tilted his head, pulling back his hood and scratching his chin. "Mm, dat's true, dat's true," he murmured softly. He was glad that she was smart; stupid people rarely caught his eye. "Why'd ya mate with a Troll?"

Alyra had been thinking as she traveled. She had expected Zengu to come back, and had been pretty sure that he would ask about her past. She knew that if she just kept brushing him off and not answering his questions, he would just stick around and get even more annoying. She had decided that she'd answer him a _little_. "Because I loved him," she said, poking at the fire.

Zengu rolled his eyes. "Well dat _is_ often th' reason people get mated," he said, raising a brow at her. "I mean, why did—?"

She looked up at him. "Again, because I loved him."

"An' 'is bein' of a different race didn' bother ya?" Zengu inquired.

Alyra had never told anyone why she had mated with Bakko. She had never had anyone other than him to tell. And when he had died, she hadn't reached out to find anyone else. She had been alone for so long, and suddenly telling a stranger was slightly painful. But it wasn't as if it mattered anyways, it was all long past. She looked away, chewing her bottom lip.

"No, it didn't," she said quietly, absentmindedly rubbing her right forearm, frowning as if it twinged. She leaned back against the tree, running her fingers through her hair and pushing it out of her face. Pain burned in her chest, a lump rising in her throat. But despite all that, she felt a small sense of relief. She was letting go of things that she had been holding onto for so long, things that she had been unable to bury deep enough in her own mind. In some way, sharing these thoughts—even with someone like Zengu—felt… good. It was almost as if carrying her past around was a bit easier, like she was sharing some of the load with him.

The feeling, while not entirely unpleasant, was also totally alien to her, and she shifted uncomfortably, color creeping into her cheeks as she scratched the back of her head. "Look… I may not be the hub of all information, but if I find out you've told anyone this… I _will_ find you, and I _will_ castrate you." She forced some malice into her voice, shooting a halfhearted, sidelong glare at the Troll.

Zengu got up, walking over and sitting down next to Alyra on her bedroll; she instantly scooted a few inches away. "Dat's not somethin' ya gotta worry yerself 'bout, 'Lyra," he said softly, and for once, he wasn't playing with her, he was actually being honest. "I'm a' untrustworthy killer, thief, sell-out, an' all 'round scum." His voice was strangely soft, and he reached over to turn her head, making her look him in the eyes. "But I ain't gonna be th' one dat tells anyone 'bout yer past. Yer da only one with rights t' do dat."

Her cheek heated where his hand rested, and she stayed silent for several moments. "Why do I believe you?" she murmured, touching his wrist softly. "I have no reason to trust your word, and my gut says not to but, by the Goddess, I do believe you…" She pushed his hand down and laughed dryly. "You are a strange, strange man, Zengu," she breathed. She looked up, listening to the crickets and pulling her blanket around her shoulders. She turned her head. "Wanna blanket?" she muttered after a while.

Now, the Troll was _never_ one to waste an opportunity. Standing up and to the side dropped his cloak and pack, stripping down most of his armor before he moved back to Alyra's side, nodding. She offered him the other blanket, but he took the one around her shoulders, draping it over his own. Just as she was opening her mouth to snap at him, he dragged her into his lap, wrapping the large blanket around both of them and anchoring his arms around her waist.

Alyra elbowed him hard in the chest, squirming in his grasp. He only grunted and pulled the other blanket over her lap. He would have rested his chin on her head but she was still squirming in her attempt to escape. She tried to strike at his groin, but he had decided to wear a metal codpiece, and she only succeeded in hurting her hand and making him grin. Finally, she went still, and glared daggers up at him.

"This is _not_ what I meant, and you know it!" she hissed, pulling fruitlessly at his arms around her. "Lemme go!"

Zengu simply laughed aloud, hugging her closer. "Ya didn' say it wasn't, though," he said, resting his chin on her shoulder and grinning proudly. " 'M quite happy with dis new position." Still holding her tightly with one arm, he used the other to yank her shirt to the side, exposing her neck. He opened his mouth, his fangs just brushing her skin. Alyra had been bitten—willingly—by a Troll before, and knew just what Zengu's jaws could do to her. She froze, a shiver going up her spine and down her arms. His breath ghosted against her, the seconds dragging by. But just as quickly, he pulled his mouth from her neck, readjusting her shirt and patting her shoulder. He rested his chin on her head, his eyes closing.

Alyra waited for several moments, expecting Zengu to say something. But he just stayed quiet, his body relaxing totally, but his grip on her staying firm; he had absolutely no intention of letting her go. Maybe he was trying to get her back for when she had grabbed onto him in her sleep, and hadn't let _him_ go. Maybe he was just being a bastard again. The last one was quite a bit more likely.

Leaning forward as far as she could, Alyra pushed a few more of the small logs onto the fire, banking it for the night. She didn't much care to spend the whole night like this, but she could sleep sitting up if she had too. She twisted her head, looking up at Zengu. His headrest gone, he opened one eye and frowned down at her. They stared at each other for a while, Alyra's own frown slowly turning to an expression of tired exasperation.

"Ugh! _Fine_!" she said, throwing her arms up in surrender. "I shall give you the honor of being my pillow." She squirmed slightly, adjusting her position to make herself more comfortable. It took some doing, but she finally ended up sitting sideways in his lap, her cheek resting on his chest. She closed her eyes, his heartbeat strong in her ear. She admitted to herself that it was a comforting sound, and was able to relax a bit as he adjusted his arms and the blanket around her. "Now don't try anything funny; I expect to wake up with my virtue intact," she muttered, nudging him lightly in the ribs. _'Virtue?'_ said a voice in the back of her head. _'Hah! _What_ virtue?'_

000

The searing pain of fire on his skin was what woke Zengu. He came to with a roar, one arm clenching around Alyra and the other drawing a dagger. He saw a flare of light in front of him, and ducked and rolled, kicking the embers of the fire up and forward into the air. He heard yells, and felt Alyra grab something, probably her sword. He heard her yell, and felt her hand slapping at his shoulder, probably trying to put out remaining flames. He shook his head, blinking to clear his eyes, and finally letting her down and drawing his second dagger.

Alyra blinked rapidly, clearing the sleep from her eyes and trying to focus her spinning mind. She glanced quickly around the tree, she counted four attackers, and two of them looked to be Mages. One of them was trying to put out small fires from the embers that had been kicked at him, and the other was already getting another spell ready. Alyra wasn't quite sure, but as she and Zengu ducked behind a large tree, she could have sworn that they were all of Alliance races.

"You stupid _shrew_!" one of them snapped. "The incompetence of—By the LIGHT!" There was a growl of frustration then hushed cursing.

Biting her bottom lip, Alyra rubbed at her eyes, taking deep breaths as she took a firmer grip on her sword. She glanced to the side, opening her mouth to speak to Zengu. But he had vanished, and she was alone. She grit her teeth, the adrenaline in her veins making her temper flare. Her hands clenched into a tighter grip on her sword, her knuckles white. _'That fucker!'_ A soft growl left her, and she turned. _'Well _fine_ then! I tend to take it personally when someone tries to kill me.'_

She took a breath, exhaled, and then took another breath. She darted out from behind the tree, charging a mage that had his back to her. They all jumped, whirling around to face her. She didn't stop, swinging her sword back as he feet pounded the earth. The Mage's face paled and he threw up a hand, words stumbling from his lips.

Energy shuddered up her blade and into her arms as she struck the golden surface of the spell, a bubble encasing the Mage. A second later, only her thirty plus years of trained reflexes saved her from a fatal injury. She felt the prick of a blade at her back behind her heart, and she whirled, clashing her sword into a Rogue's daggers. She cursed, her back now exposed to the Mage. Her mind clamored in a brief moment of panic, before she heard the hiss of metal slicing through flesh, a soft gurgle, then the 'thump' of a body falling to the ground.

Not having time to think, Alyra blocked a blow to her neck, glaring up at the dagger wielding Night Elf in front of her. She saw his lip curl as he took in her ears and dual-toned skin. She knew that look, and a soft rage began to build inside her. Then she felt the warmth of another body at her back.

"Ya didn't tink dat I'd let ya die so soon, did ya?" Zengu's voice said softly, his back up against hers as he stood in a stance of his own, daggers out and body slightly hunched.

"Well, now that you mention it, the whole _vanishing_ thing kinda pointed in that direction!" she growled back, keeping her eyes on the Elf. "But right now, I got a racist prick t' take care of, so, if you'll excuse me?"

"Enjoy yerself," Zengu said, grinning and baring his fangs at the Human he was facing. "I know dat I will."

The man swallowed almost imperceptibly, fighting the urge to step back. To cover up the moment, he wrinkled his nose and scoffed. "Filthy, stinking creature," he said, twirling his knives. Zengu didn't react to the poorly attempted taunt, his grin only widening and making the Human swallow again. Alyra rolled her eyes, and refocusing one hundred percent of her attention on her own foe; she didn't like fighting along side anyone, and preferred doing things alone, but she didn't have a choice this time. She moved her feet slowly, side stepping around the Elf, his footwork matching hers.

_'If they're gonna insist on keeping me awake, I'll just have to make _them_ sleep!'_ Pushing off the balls of her feet, she lunged in, slashing at a down and diagonal angle, blocked by both daggers. Still holding her sword, he lunged through her guard, trying to stab her shoulder. Instead, he cut across the top of it, making her swear loudly. She saw his brow twitch slightly as she swore in Trollish, but she just kicked out, slamming his codpiece into his testicles, making him groan, and hunch slightly. "Those things don' always work, bastard!" she shouted at him in common, chopping into his neck. Blood sprayed, spattering Alyra's face. He fell to the ground flailing and gurgling.

She whirled towards Zengu, only to see him dig one dagger into the human's chest, and the other into his stomach, slicing the latter across the soft flesh, ruining the man's insides and insuring his death. "Not very good at dis are ya?" he muttered, pulling his blades free and kicking the Human down. Holding one handle between his teeth, he pulled out a rag and started to clean the other weapon, muttering something about hiring incompetent assassins.

Alyra went back to her things, avoiding the scattered coals on the ground. She retrieved her own cleaning rag, and began wiping off her sword. Her mind started to bubble as she turned the attack over in her mind. Something about the armor the two had been wearing had been familiar. It wasn't the normal armor that could be purchased at any armory. It had been black leather with some kind of blue symbol. Stowing the rag back in her bag, her hand brushed the leather wrapped bundle she took everywhere with her.

Her mood softened a bit, and she pulled it out, fingers tracing the ocean blue braid that bound it shut. A little smile pulled at the corners of her mouth, and her anger quieted. All of a sudden, a black-gloved hand shot into her field of vision, reaching for the bundle. Alyra lashed out faster than she had in a long time. She ripped the bundle open, jerked back, and stabbed the stone knife into the hand, pinning it into the trunk of the tree. A woman screamed harshly, and Alyra quickly had a boot knife at her throat, staring into Human eyes.

"What the hell do you want?" the half-Elf growled, drawing a bit of blood with the knife. She gave the woman a quick look over, and saw that she was wearing the same armor as the others has been.

The woman stared up at Alyra for several moments, tension and pain making her face pale. Then, without a word, she pushed her head forward and twisted her neck, slicing her own throat on Alyra's blade. More blood sprayed her face, and she jerked back, pulling the stone knife from the tree and the woman's hand, watching her slump to the ground.

"Oi!" Alyra snapped. "Don't bleed on my bed!" She kicked the blankets and bedroll out of harm's way before cleaning and wrapping up the stone knife again. Her eyes narrowed and foul mood restored, she reached out to remove the woman's armor to get a better look at it. But a second before her fingers touched leather, the entire body—armor included—began to hiss and steam, Zengu making a sound behind her as the other bodies did the same. Knowing better than to touch something that was smoking and burning before her eyes, Alyra took a step back.

"Nevah seen somethin' like dat 'appen before," Zengu murmured, coming over and squatting down next to her on the balls of his feet. He picked up a stick and nudged what was now a pile of black, foul-smelling ash and gooey liquid. His nostrils flared, and he instantly sneezed and coughed, body rejecting the strong smell. He got to his feet, staring to buckle the rest of his armor back on. Alyra started doing the same, both of them silently agreeing that leaving the area immediately was a very, _very_ good idea.

000

Dawn was a chilly, damp affair, the clouds above foretelling rain. Alyra pulled up the hood of her oilskin, making it sure that it covered her pack. She had transferred the wrapped stone knife out of her bag, tucking it into the front of her tunic between her breasts. If someone was after it, she wasn't going to take another chance; it meant far too much for her to risk losing it. Zengu had insisted on still following her, and she stubbornly ignored him. It was true that he had been a great help in the fight, but her pride was still a bit sore. She preferred to do things on her own, not with the help of others.

Zengu hadn't said anything to her recently, and for this she was grateful. However, he had changed to watching her intently. She kept waiting for him to stumble on a root or a stone, but even though he rarely watched the path ahead of him, his gaze remained fixed on her. She was starting to wish that he would start talking again; his gaze was too piercing for her to just ignore.

Though he didn't show it, Zengu was quite enjoying himself. He could see Alyra's frustration mounting, watching the little things about her demeanor. She walked proudly, with a stubborn set to her strong jaw. Her head was held high, her miss matched eyes occasionally flicking over to glare at him. He just kept watching her, taking in every detail. He probably would have made a good spy, now that he thought about it, but it was more fun to lean about people just for his own amusement, instead of having to do it for a job.

He saw that her pulse was picking up, and she was chewing more heavily on her lip than normal. Either the attack had taken a larger toll on her than he'd thought, or she was about to snap at him, probably for constantly staring at her. He liked making her lose her temper; she was going to be a lot more fun than anyone else that had caught his interest in a long time. He saw her open her mouth, about to finally break, and so he looked away. He seemed to lose all interest in her, picking up his pace and walking ahead of her, suddenly very interested in the ground ahead of them.

Alyra clamped her mouth shut, glowering at her unwanted traveling companion. She sighed unhappily, picking up her pace as well, easily keeping up with the long-legged Troll. "I don't like company, you know," she muttered, hefting her pack a bit higher.

"I tink ya said somethin' like dat," Zengu said offhandedly. "Don' matter dat much ta me." He looked over and winked down at her, making her eye twitch slightly; she looked ready to maul him.

But somehow, she managed to restrain herself, biting the inside of her cheek until it bled. The pain let her focus on something else, and she quickened her pace yet again, giving a quick glance heavenward as she prayed for him to just _go away_! Either they weren't listening, or the Gods and Goddesses found the situation as amusing as Zengu did.

More time passed, and things continued in silence. The air began to thicken, smelling of rain and moisture. Eventually, the clouds were so swollen they burst, letting loose a torrent of rain. If it hadn't been for both of their cloaks, the travelers would have been soaked in a matter of seconds. But because of the oilskins, the rain simply slid off, dripping around their boots. Normally, Alyra liked being in the rain, but fall rains came with an unpleasant chill, and she shivered, unconsciously moving closer to Zengu as she hunched up her shoulders.

He _did_ notice, and grinned slightly. He knew why her body had; he had always radiated an unnatural amount of body heat, and whenever he had kept an animal around him, it had kept very close to him on cold nights. This also went for whenever he'd had a woman. New thoughts—of a less chaste nature—started to unroll in his mind, now featuring a certain curvaceous, half-Elf Warrior. He relaxed in these thoughts, turning over the possibilities.

Would she be a screamer, or maybe the kind of woman that gasped, whimpered, and mewled? Perhaps a pillow biter? He liked all three, but he _didn't_ like meek women. He liked a female to bite a little, to scratch. Any marks they left on him faded quickly—considering his regeneration factor—but this just spurred them to leave more, and he didn't mind that one bit.

Alyra's thoughts were on a very different path. She slipped one hand down the front of her breastplate and shirt, brushing the wrapped stone blade. She didn't know how it had been made, or where the last owner had gotten it. It looked like it had been a giant shard of some kind of dark, glassy rock, with a bone hilt bound onto it with cord, and leather wrapped around the handle. She had been ordered to protect it, until someone—she _still_ had no idea who that was—came along. Her lips pursed and pulled to the side, a sign of mild aggravation as she looked upwards. _'Dammit, Bakko. You were normally so easy to understand… Except when it came to this damn thing.'_

She simply got a face full of rain in response, and glowered, imagining her old mate laughing and grinning down at her from his ridiculous height; he had been quite tall, even by Troll standards. Growing bored with the silence, she relented, and nudged Zengu with an elbow. "Hey, I'll answer some more of yer questions if you answer some of mine," she said. "You ask one, I answer, then I ask one, and you answer." There were some secrets she wouldn't divulge to him, but just talking wasn't likely to cause any harm. That, and she was bred.

"So now ya gonna cooperate?" he said, looking over at her. She just shrugged, giving him a rather bland look. "S'fine wit' me. Now lemme see…" He tapped his chin, feigning deep thought. "D'rowenth is a Noble name, ain't it? Odd one too."

Alyra raised her brows and glanced at him, but just shrugged again. "Yeah. Father had an odd Elvish name, but he was proud of it. Now, why don't you have a clan name?"

There was a dark flicker in his eyes, but she didn't see it, his face hidden in his hood. "Got wiped out when I was off huntin' on my own. Why aren't ya livin' with yer family now?"

The sigh she gave was heavy, her shoulders drooping a little. "A Human family—we lived in a small, mostly Human City—attacked us verbally because my Human mother married into the D'rowenth family. Their slurs weren't true, so we dealt with it. But then they started forging documents and evidence, making their lies look more like the truth." Anger surfaced in her tone as she continued; she hadn't been planning on telling everything, but she felt like she couldn't stop now.

"They got people to say that Mother had slept with a lot of men, men from the Alliance and the Horde, making her out to be some kind of whore. They made Father look like a traitor to the Alliance." Her voice turned sad. Most of our friends abandoned us, and it got so bad that… well…" again, she shrugged, saying softly, "they committed suicide, after arranging for me to be taken care of. I was only fourteen, but they left me control of the estate and the money.

"I didn't want to stay though; I'd never been very good at being a lady, and I couldn't even speak proper Elvish. I sold pretty much everything, took what money I could, and left. I ended up in tiny little port town with a mix of Horde and Alliance. I made a friend, and they took care of me." She sighed, finished with her answer. "Only ever told one other person that, and I actually _trusted_ them." She looked over at Zengu, an odd look on her face. "I could have told you any number of lies or I could have glossed over everything. But I told you in detail…" She narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously. "You're not actually a Shaman are you, making me answer you truthfully?"

Zengu outright laughed, pulling back his hood to look at her. " 'Lyra, only magic I know is how t' Stealth." He winked. "Only reason ya be tellin' me dis is 'cause ya want to."

His black hair took on a wet shine, water dripping from his tusks. Alyra couldn't help but watch him. The simple image of the dripping water brought emotion swelling in her chest, memory hot on its heels. She bit her already abused bottom lip, jerking her head away. The rain had once been so pleasant and comforting to her, even a deluge like this. But with Zengu's odd presence making her old emotions so raw again, the rain just turned old, happy memories painful. She tried to resent him for this—it _was_ his fault… kind of—but she couldn't bring herself to do it.

It wasn't his fault she'd chosen to just bury her feelings ten years ago rather than deal with them. It wasn't his fault that she was so willingly telling him about her past. She looked down, feeling slightly ashamed for some of her anger before. But she quickly shook that off, straightening out her shoulders and lifting her head back up. He had been the one that was staring at her for no reason, his eyes glittering with mirth when his mouth wasn't grinning.

So she was left in a stalemate with herself. She wanted to be angry with Zengu, but half of what she wanted to be angry at him for, wasn't his fault. She mulled over this, chewing over and over again at her lip, until Zengu had had enough. His long arm snapped out, grabbing hold of her chin and jerking her from her walking to stand in front of him, fighting to keep her balance. "Wh-what the hell?" she snapped, arms out to steady herself.

"Ya don' look good with dat frown, 'Lyra," he said lowly, eyes fixed on hers. "And ya shouldn' be the one ta chew so much on dat pretty little lip of yers." He pulled her closer, her hands coming between them, bracing against his chest, trying to stop the movement. But he simply put his other arm around her, pulling her flush against him, despite her efforts. Then he whispered softly in her ear, "only one with th' right t' do dat is a lover…" His words sent a combination of ice and lava running down her spine and arms, the shivers having nothing to do with the rain.

Frozen in place, and with nowhere near enough strength to break his hold, Alyra remained, releasing her lip from between her teeth. But the moment she felt his hold loosen, she shoved backwards, half stumbling as she moved hastily away from him. The bastard was grinning that grin of his, and she quickly turned away. She hoisted her pack higher, pulled her head deeper into the hood. She started off in a light jog, needing to distance herself.

Zengu let her go, knowing that she'd leave a scent trail that he could follow, even in the rain. _'Such a pity… Watchin' 'er go but with dat damned cloak in da way…'_ He would have loved very much to get another view of her backside. Her armor would be molded to her exact shape, and would have given him a nice suggestion of what lay beneath. He chuckled to himself, following her path but letting her get ahead. If he pushed her too hard she'd put up even more walls than she already had. It had been quite a while since he'd met someone with so many walls around their heart. But that just made her all the more fun to play with. Easy games were never all that interesting.

000

Even hours later, the rain showed no signs of letting up. Knowing the area rather well, Alyra altered course and began heading for an outcropping of rock where there were several caves of various sizes. She always kept one walled up so that nothing too large or dangerous could get in and make itself at home. There were no snakes in the area that could cause much harm, and if any small rodent had gotten in, their bites wouldn't pierce the layer of leather she wore over everything. They would also serve as a quick meal if she caught them. She kept one ear out for Zengu, and almost hoped that he would give up and leave her alone… almost.

When she found the cave at the top of a steep hill, she was careful not to slip on the muddy ground or slick rocks. Then she pulled away the small stones, vines, and old branches that hid the entrance, quickly darting inside. Leaving her cloak by the door, she slid down the small slope that went down into the cave. It was big enough for about three humans, or—now that she thought about it—one Troll and one half-Elf, with a little extra room left over. She sent a prayer skyward that he would lose her trail in the rain.

But her scent was too unique and easy for Zengu to pick out. He arrived at the cave, squeezing himself through the entrance and pulling the vines down over the entrance one more, and the hanging his own cloak behind them. It was certainly better than leaving it open. He slid silently down to the main body of the cave, finding a small form curled up in a ball under some blankets, with a backpack, a sword, and a pair of soaked boots set close by. As he advanced, he saw further on, that Alyra had set her armor around molds that had obviously been kept in the cave—she couldn't have been carrying them with her.

It made sense; leather tended to contract and warp if it got too wet, and even with her oilskin cloak, there had been a certain amount of splashing. Setting down his things, Zengu removed his own armor, and squatted beside the little, blanketed lump. He nudged it once with a finger, and it grunted at him, scooting away. He laughed softly. "Funny ting, ain't ya?" he muttered. He lifted the corner of the blanket, his keen eyes picking out the shape of Alyra's sleeping face; she was shivering. He removed his glove and touched her cheek, feeling chilled skin. "Dat'll do ya no good," he said, frowning.

The frown quickly turned to a grin as he began to think of ways to take advantage of the situation. He wouldn't, of course, do anything _too_ obscene, just something to fluster her a bit. But, before that, he would see if he could find a way to warm up the cave. A fire would be nice, but even if there were a hole in the roof—unlikely—it would simply let the rain in onto the fire. He settled for opening the entrance a bit. Wondering if there was more stored in the cave than molds for armor, he began to search.

"Seems ya come 'ere quite a bit," he muttered happily. He'd found a small collection of perfectly dry logs and kindling. There was even a striker and flint. The girl behaved like a Hunter. He looked over his shoulder, and chuckled.

It took time to get the fire going and to position it precisely so that the smoke was sucked out the small opening he had made at the entrance. But eventually, he got it right, and a small fire was crackling in a circle of gathered stones. With some warmth seeping through the cave, Zengu returned his attention back to the little ball of half-Elf huddled under the blankets. She had the bedroll laid out under her, but was curled so small that there was enough room for him. He slipped under the blankets with her, his chest to her back.

In her sleep, Alyra felt the warmth, and instantly rolled over to press herself as close as she could, breathing deeply. Her head was tucked under his chin, hands against his chest. Zengu found himself all too glad he had removed the armor; he could feel the pleasant warmth of her hands and breath easily.

The lacings of his tunic hung open, baring some of his chest. Alyra nuzzled into it, sighing happily. While she could awake swiftly at any sign of a threat, when all was calm, she was a very contented sleeper. She reacted purely to feeling as she slept, moving towards warmth and comfort. Her soft, even breathing tickled Zengu's skin, goose bumps rushing across him. He closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around the female, her head resting slightly on one bicep.

_'Yer a strange girl, 'Lyra,'_ Zengu thought to himself, letting his eyes half close. _'But dat just makes ya all da more in'trestin'.'_

000

Alyra had always had vivid dreams, so vivid that when she was small, for a time, she had been unable to tell what was reality, and what was a product of her sleeping mind. Her mother and father had been worried at first, when their small child, who was already unique enough, would awake screaming and inconsolable after a nightmare, convinced that she was still trapped in the fantasy. The good dreams weren't so bad, but she was so disappointed when she woke to find that she didn't have the magic sword, or that she had not ridden on a winged horse.

But as she grew, she had learned to differentiate her dreams from the waking world, and while she sometimes still awoke in a panic or in tears, she could calm down, and go back to sleep. Her parents soon relaxed, and when she no longer woke them in the nights, they stopped worrying all together.

And, for a time, the vividness had stopped, and Alyra's dreams felt no more or less real than the next person's. It was only after Bakko had died that the dreams had returned. And the good ones were few are far between. All her senses, keen enough in daily life, were heightened in her sleep. She heard every cry, tasted the blood in her mouth when she was struck, felt every blow and whisper of wind, and—worst of all—she saw every instant with perfect clarity.

For a while, she just relived her pain. She relived seeing him struck from behind by the ax, relived holding him in her arms as he bled away from her, and relived every agonizing night she had spent without him, sobbing into whatever excuse of a pillow an inn had to offer.

Then, the dreams showed her things that had never happened. Bakko was tortured and abused in front of her, while she could do nothing. She saw every cut on his skin, and smelled the overpowering scent of his blood as it left him. She saw him bed another woman in the home that he had built with her, she saw him laugh as she wept in betrayal and rage. All her dreams gave her were sadness.

But not this time. This time, encircled by a warm pair of arms, Alyra's dream was pleasant, though no less clear.

_Bakko was there with her, sitting between the roots of a massive tree, her perched on one of them beside him. He had a lump of wood and a knife in his hands, the shavings of the wood in a growing pile on the ground before him. Alyra tilted her head, watching his deft hands whittle away at the wood. The air smelled moist, filled with the scent of earth and foliage._

_ "What're ya making this time?" she asked curiously, tapping her heels against the root. _

_ "What's it look like 'm makin'?" he said in his husky, laid back voice, never looking up._

_ Rolling her eyes, Alyra crawled around and sat on the Troll's shoulders, crossing her arms on his head, his blue hair tickling her face. She peered at the item taking shape in his gray-green hands. "It… looks like a person," she finally said. She looked closer. "A woman?"_

_ "Yeah," Bakko murmured, ignoring the weight of his mate; there was a soft tone in his voice now, content. "But dis be a particular woman." He turned it over, showing the beginnings of a sword on her back._

_ "Ah! She's a warrior!" Alyra said, reaching out to trace the weapon with her fingers. _

_ Bakko had to stop his carving as she slid down to sit in his lap. He chuckled, tucking her head under his chin and lifting up her right hand, setting the knife and the wood down. He pulled back her sleeve, and bit lightly at the mating scars there, nibbling at her wrist and growling playfully. She shivered, closing her eyes and sighing, leaning her head back, hair dropping away from her neck. _

She felt his mouth alight there as clear as day, and she whimpered into Zengu's chest, squeezing her eyes shut. He just gave her a light squeeze, and let her keep on dreaming.

_Bakko nipped once, the sighed, wrapping his arms around Alyra's waist. "Did ya do what I told ya?" His voice sounded different, almost as if were coming from far away, but at the same time spoke in her ear. "Wit' da knife?"_

_ "Yes…" Alyra murmured, knowing that this particular event had never happened. He hadn't given her the knife until two days before he died. "Do you have to ask now? I'm having such a good…" She trailed off, not wanting to risk breaking the spell._

_ "Yeah, I do," he murmured, face tucked into her neck, tusks pressing lightly into her shoulder blades. "Yer gonna have t' guard it harder 'n ever." She felt a feather-light kiss on her neck, and Bakko's voice sounded sad. " 'Member what I told ya, 'bout meetin' da mon who'll need it?" She nodded, tears in her eyes; the good part of the dream was ending. "Don' let no one but 'im touch it, Ali'." She kept her eyes closed as her head was turned and her lips pressed to his. Goddess, it felt so real… "And not even 'im 'til da time be right…" There was silence, and then he sounded so very far away. "Don' be afraid t' let me go, Ali'."_

Alyra sat up sharply, thrashing to free herself of Zengu and the tangled blankets. Tears were coursing down her cheeks, her vision blurry. She heard Zengu grumbling in his own low voice, trying to slide his arm around her again. But she shoved him away, not really angry with him, instead refusing to let him see her crying. She batted his arm away a second time, throwing the blankets from her completely.

Wiping furiously at her face and trying not to sniffle, she stuffed her feet into her boots and grabbed her cloak and knife, escaping the cave as quickly as she could. As soon as she was out, she scrambled up the rock-face, slipping and sliding as she hiccupped and choked. Her nose was running as badly as her eyes, no matter how many times she wiped at her face with her sleeve. The rain was coming down even harder, making it even harder to see. But at least it covered up her tears and running nose.

000

While one Troll and his half-Human companion had temporarily separated, another Troll and his mate—a fully Human Mage—sloshed along through the drenched forest, escorted by a Raptor. Both were hooded and cloaked, the female riding on the Raptor as her mate led them along. She had twisted her ankle rather badly, and he was just trying to find a somewhat dry place to tend to her.

The increasing rain dampened his senses, and it did so just enough for the assassin tracking them to remain undetected. He was a young Human man named Roth, a Hunter taking it upon himself to collect on a bounty. Said bounty was on the heads of a male Troll Rouge, and a Human woman. He couldn't remember what class the woman was—or what she looked like—but how many pairs of Troll and Human were wandering around in the wilderness?

By Roth's reasoning… not many.

Like all of his kind, the Troll—who went by the name of Apoch—was tall and lanky, with light blue skin, and fiery red hair and eyes. Roth recognized the armor as Bloodfang, for all that it was splattered with mud. And as if the dark red and black armor wasn't spiky and intimidating enough, the Troll had the look of a hardened killer in his eyes; he would not go down easily.

Under the cloak, Iscah—the mage—wore a lavender robe, the hem and cuffs, as well as a wide stripe down the front, of a darker shade. It was simple enough, synched around the waist by a dark purple belt, the color making her ivory skin look even paler. Her face was hidden in the hood, but for a moment, Roth caught sight of striking blue eyes and snow-white hair; she was a beauty.

Apoch leaned his weight against a branch, the soaked bough—as thick as a human leg—bending with his strength, the piney needles sending down a shower of water. Behind him, his raptor, Bu'u, moved forward past the offending branch before the Troll let it go softly, making sure that it didn't make too much noise. The reptile paused, lifting his head to study the surroundings, moving his head quickly from side to side in a very hawk-like manner.

The Mage, hidden in an overly large cloak, twisted slightly to look back at her mate as Bu'u paused. Apoch snorted in response to her questioning look, shaking his head to fling off some of the water. "I don' like this," he said softly. "We need t' get somewhere dry, somewhere safe."

Roth knew that he couldn't stay hidden forever, and he licked his lips, holding his already strung bow close to him; he didn't want it to catch on anything and give away his position. He wasn't sure what the Troll had said, but he wasn't going to take the chance that it had noticed him. All he had to do was decide whom to shoot first. He wasn't supposed to kill the woman, but she looked weak enough already, and likely wouldn't be a problem.

He also knew that raptors could be quite loyal to their masters, and that they were also as fierce as any war-horse, if not more so. Licking his lips again, and grinning, he lifted his bow, closing one eye and setting his sighs on the raptor. The second the arrow left his bow, he darted around, knowing that staying in one place while sniping was _not_ a good plan.

The shot was precise, but missed the raptor out of pure coincidence. The beast lurched forward to snap a moth out of the air that had flitted out into the rain from the disturbed branch. Instead the arrow went deeply into his rider's arm, almost to the bone, making her scream in pain. Apoch had his daggers out instantly, snarling an order to Bu'u; he bolted into the trees in hopes of taking Iscah away from the threat. The troll vanished into thin air, pressing forward in the direction of the shot.

_'Damn Troll!'_ Roth thought spitefully, readying another arrow. He'd managed to bring down a stealthed Troll or two before, but it had never been easy. He'd relied on scent before, but the rain made his own weaker sense of smell practically useless now. He half closed his eyes, listening hard. The rain was a bit lighter, but the rushing sound still muffled things. Cursing softly, he poured all his focus into listening. There it was!

He whirled, loosing the arrow. There was a sharp metallic sound as he hit armor, and he cursed again, ducking and pushing back. Fighting a Troll like this was not a good idea. Never once turning his back, he tried to focus on the disturbances in the falling rain.

Apoch had been hit, but it wasn't serious. Darting into the underbrush, he ripped out the arrow, his eyes never leaving his prey. He didn't understand _why_ they were being attacked. It was clear that although he was experienced, the Hunter was too brash. He pulled out a vial of neon-green liquid and dabbed some onto the edges of his blades. His ears flexed independently of each other, checking for any other threats. There were none.

Solo hunter then. His posture eased, becoming looser and more relaxed, his brain shifting into that of a pure and deadly killer. This fight for life was his element, and for someone who had always lived a kill-or-be-killed life, the change came easily. But he didn't move; he remained hidden and utterly still, even when a raindrop slid from his eyelash and into his eye. Half the fun was to watch and wait, letting the prey's own mind turn against it.

A new arrow fitted, the Human flexed his grip on the bow. The Troll wasn't the stupid brute that their kind was often made out to be. He wasn't moving either, waiting like a big cat. Chills skittered over Roth's skin under his own armor and clothes, and he blinked rapidly to shed the water from his own eyes. He pushed everything else from his mind, squeezing out everything that didn't pertain to the situation at hand. He could very easily be killed here if he didn't pay attention.

He knew he was being watched, and hated the unsettling feeling it put in his mind. Fear could be your worst enemy in a fight. He relaxed his arm slightly, peering ahead of him. Rain dripping from the trees and vines ahead, dropping onto the ground, the lower leaves. And a few in one tiny corner beside a tree, they seemed to pause, held still in the air before they fell once more. A corner of armor. He didn't linger on the sight, but kept it on the edge of his vision.

He took several steps back, putting distance between himself and Apoch, keeping that one spot in the corner of his eye. He lifted the bow, pointing purposefully away. "There you are..." He advanced on the false focus, then whipped around, letting loose again. He heard a grunt and a growl, and started to move swiftly away. He couldn't let himself get caught. That would be the end of him.

Apoch moved before the arrow could hit his chest, but caught it through his inner arm. The enchanted leather turned what could've been a deep puncture into a barely inch-deep wound. Yanking it out, he leapt from the brush, staying off to the side of the hunter as he pressed him into flight. Stopping to crouch behind a dense bush, he jerked out two shuriken. Then he flung them, the dull black projectiles silent as they spun towards the Human with surprising force.

Well aimed, the throwing stars found gaps in his armor, each sinking into his flesh with a soft 'thuks'. He snarled, spitting curses as he sent an arrow after the Troll. He stumbled behind a tree, glancing to survey the damage. One had found the space between his breastplate and shoulder guard, the metal stuck deep. The other—he cursed again—had hit his upper thigh. He couldn't risk removing that one.

He pulled the one in his shoulder quickly from him, dropping it. He was staring to feel his confidence falter, and he bit the inside of his cheek tasting blood and using the pain to refocus himself. He pulled out another arrow, this one with a long, barbed, and vicious head.

Apoch moved after him, not risking the precious. Instead he circled ahead, keeping near the path of least resistance; the one the hunter would most likely take. And then he waited, falling into a trance that kept his mind free of anything.

Refusing to feel the panic that was building in his chest, Roth kept moving back, eyes flicking frantically about, giving away the nervousness that was starting to creep in. He was now severely regretting not bringing someone else—a mage, another rogue, anyone!—along. Any of them would have been a great help at this point.

He clenched his jaw against the pain that throbbed with his pulse, his blood almost _hot_ on his chilled skin. It was a standoff of sorts, and he kept backing up, turning this way and that with the barbed arrow. Then, he realized that he was truly lost. He could pick up the faintest—but steady—breathing behind him. The Troll was only inches away, and Roth didn't know if he would be able to turn around quickly enough.

Apoch knew the hunter was aware of his presence when he stiffened. Crimson eyes darkened behind the cowl, taking note of every witch and shift. Still he waited, toying with the male's fear out of habit before his blade snaked out, catching him in the side with unnatural speed.

The first thing Roth felt was the razor's edge of the blade cutting into him. It sliced through skin and muscle as if it were nothing more than a soft cheese. The second thing he felt was the poison. He cursed Apoch up and down, cursing everything from his ancestors to his future young. The poison felt as if needles flowed in his blood, stabbing into and scraping across everything they came up on.

He grabbed the shaft of the arrow, whirling and stabbing it blindly. He felt the barbed head hit leather, but then it was pushed back. With what little strength he could muster, he drove it past the enchantment into flesh before staggering back, holding his side as the pain grew. Apoch snarled, grabbing his hand and crushing the bones in the same manner, with the same ease one would crack a nutshell. Then he backhanded the hunter to the ground, instead of slitting his throat and ending his suffering.

And there he left him, Roth's muscles beginning to spasm, jerking harshly and painfully, Apoch moving off to find Iscah.

000

By the time Bu'u slowed, they were as lost as they had been before, and now without Apoch. The raptor slowed, breathing deep and steady despite the hard dash. Iscah sat up from her three-appendage hug of the saddle, a few scratches from the trees on her face and neck. Looking down at the more serious injury, she gasped in pain a she touched the arrow, tears mingling with the rain. It made her sick to touch it, and she looked away.

The trees were just as thick as they had been before, but the ground was rockier, the soil mixed with small pebbles and rocks. The birds had gone quiet, and all the small animals had fled at the sound of the raptor. However, he had also alerted Alyra to their presence in his hasty escape. The half-Elf jerked to a stop, stiffening and raising her knife. She wasn't very good with a small blade, but she could defend herself well enough.

But then she heard the all too human whimper of pain, and paused. She looked around, and began climbing up over a small hill. When she reached the top, she moved behind a tree, peeking out. She instantly stiffened in fear. She had seen the injured woman, but it was the large reptile with the _very_ sharp talons and teeth that held her attention. The memory of having her chest nearly crushed and her breasts almost ripped off was a very strong one.

But, remembering the Human, she got over her fear quickly, standing up and stepping around the tree, calling out to pale haired and bleeding young woman. "What happened?" she said, speaking in Trollish without realizing it.

Bu'u whirled in the direction of the voice, maw full of curving canines as he took a menacing step towards the stranger, making her jump back, eyes wide. Iscah fumbled with the reigns, cutting off his curdling shriek into a comical gagging, the predator backpedaling at the brute force even the _Troll_ had never shown it. Iscah exhaled with relief when Bu'u tensed and trembled—but stayed still—with indignation and confusion as to why he had been cut off abruptly from defending his rider.

"I fine, it—a scratch. My brother clumsy hunt deer for. Bye-bye." She tucked the injured arm close and did her best to wheel Bu'u around, fully intending on escaping the new comer.

But Alyra, doing her best to swallow her fear of the raptor, jumped up and skidded down the muddy hill, sticking her knife into her belt. "Wait!" she called out in Common, seeing a good deal more understanding on the woman's face this time. She held up both hands, biting her bottom lip as the raptor shrieked and snapped at her. Body rigid, she did her best to remember some old reading, and imitated a submissive, non-threatening pose. "Easy, big guy, I'm not gonna hurt her," she breathed shakily. At least in focusing on her, the animal wasn't taking the injured woman any further away.

Iscah shifted nervously in the saddle. However strange it was to meet what appeared to be a Human speaking perfect Troll, she was more interested in finding her way back to Apoch, and making sure the he hadn't been injured. "I—I need to get back to my brother!" she said, trying to hide the wound. "He'll be worried!"

"No, you should—whoa!" Alyra had stepped forward, but Bu'u had snapped at her again, making her lurch back. "Look, we can leave a trail for your brother!" she said, voice tight. "My… _friend_ and I have a dry cave we can squeeze you into, but please tell this guy that I'm not going to hurt you!" She hated having such a crippling fear, and it was taking all she had not to go for her knife.

Seeing the genuine fear and unease in the red-head, the mage pulled lightly on the reins again, leaning down to whispering soothingly to Bu'u, doing her best to keep him from frightening the other woman any more. After all, she did seem to actually want to help. And, if there were indeed a cave near by, it would be much easier to treat the wound. She sat back up, but instantly wavered, feeling suddenly dizzy.

Alyra bit her lip; the girl was losing too much blood. She knew that raptors were very intelligent creatures, and she directed her efforts to him, praying to anyone—or anything—that he would understand her. "I can _help her_!" she said, holding out her hands beseechingly. "I _won't hurt_ her. I _swear_ it! You can properly gut and _eat_ me if I'm lying!"

The animal eyed her critically, tilting his head from side to side, leaning in and sniffing at her. She smelled like a Troll, though she clearly wasn't one. With Iscah hunching forward and groaning on his back, he advanced on the other female. Alyra drew her limbs in close as he circled her, sniffing at her and nudging her with his muzzle. Her eyes followed the claws, knowing exactly what they could do should the animal chose to use them. If Zengu was out looking for her, and she was attacked, he would likely find a shredded heap of meat and bones.


	3. In Which there is Another Dream

_CHAPTER THREE: In Which there is Another Dream_

She slowly undid her belt, tossing it and the knife it held, away. She knew that Raptors were intelligent, and she prayed to any deity that was listening that he would understand what she was trying to do. She removed her boot knives as well, hunkering down in a submissive posture.

"Your rider is either going to bleed to death, or go into shock and die _that_ way," she breathed softly, switching to Trollish and using a soothing tone. "I can help her. Please… I am no threat…" She pulled a bit of dried meat from a pocket and tossed it to Bu'u as a peace offering.

The raptors amber eyes didn't even follow the meat when she tossed it, though his threatening posture relaxed slightly. He hissed at her again when she moved forward a few inches, ignoring his rider's useless tugs. Iscah finally gave up and slid off his back, causing his anger to turn into confusion when she began walking over to the other girl. Bu'u pranced nervously, caught between the need to defend, and the fear that Apoch would make him skip dinner for not protecting the human girl. Finally, things clicked in the raptor's brain and he leapt for the piece of meat that Alyra had tossed, keeping one bright eye on the two as his snarling turned into a gobbling gurgle.

Iscah might've been entertained by the animal's antics, but the jostling of dismounting had caused the arrow to scrape against her bone; bone pain was nothing to be sneezed at, and all she wanted was for the pain to go away. And Alyra was quite happy to help. She wasn't the kindest of people, by any means, but she wasn't cruel either. She couldn't just leave the girl…

Warily, carefully, and always keeping an eye on Bu'u, she straightened and came over to the girl. She took a quick look at the arrow wound, and scowled. She would have much rather left the arrow in until they got back to the cave, but she didn't have much choice. She was still bleeding heavily, and taking the arrow out wouldn't change that.

Alyra picked up a stick and handed it to the other female. "Bite on this. The arrow has to come out now before it gets infected," she said quickly, stripping off her shirt and wringing it out as best she could. "I'm going to take it out, and then wrap my shirt around it, okay?" She shivered violently, hunching up, and carefully gripping the shaft of the arrow.

Iscah bit the stick but shook her head furiously, obviously not one for pain or any tolerance of it at all. She was whimpering before Alyra even touched it, though the sound died instantly when she realized Bu'u would likely think that the woman was hurting her. The raptor was circling the two nervously, cocking his head to check for any other signs of danger.

"This is going to hurt like hell," Alyra said truthfully. "But it can't very well stay in there, can it?" She thought she saw a tiny bit of a smile in Iscah's eyes, but it could have been tears just as easily. "Okay." She took a firmer grip. "One… two… three!" She pulled—hard—and braced for the scream, wrapping her shirt as tight as she could.

It came, the girl writhing in pain as the sound tore from her lungs. She let the stick go and hiccupped a cry, sobbing at the sensation of pain. "I'm sorry, I'm… it's… oh god…"

"No, it's okay," Alyra murmured. She used her belt—sans her daggers—to pull the shirt tight on Iscah's arm. "A… uh… the _friend_ of mine has some magicked bandages," she said, putting a hand lightly on the girl's shoulder. "I hope your brother's a better tracker than he is an archer; he'll have to follow your trail." She eyed Bu'u warily. "Do you want to walk, or ride… him?"

"W-walk," Iscah replied shakily, standing up and nearly toppling back over. Hugging her injured arm to herself she sniffled miserably, trying not to look like a weakling, but failing. "I don't know if Bu'u would get all snarly again if I rode him."

"Thanks," Alyra murmured, leading the girl carefully, and feeling Bu'u follow. "I'm not too partial to raptors," she looked back, "no offense. I'm sure you're a wonderful protector." His answering snort seemed almost proud. She paused then, frowning. What was a human doing with a Raptor as a mount? And one obviously bred for battle at that. She could ask, but it wasn't really any of her business. Shivering again, she steadied Iscah as they began up the slope.

Iscah followed, keeping her eyes glued to the ground in front of her for fear of losing her footing on the muddy terrain. Then it occurred to her how precarious the situation was. Perhaps it would be better to part ways now before she had to lie any more, or worse, have Apoch find her. She faltered at the thought, knowing just how vicious he could be, especially when he was protecting her. She wasn't sure had the strength to deal with that, especially considering how easily he would kill the woman and her friend if she didn't dissuade him in time. "I—I think maybe I should go, actually. My brother will be looking for me."

Alyra stopped at a somewhat flat space, and moved around to look the other in the eyes, hands on her shoulders. "Look, the storm is going to get bad again, and you'll get sick with that wound." She put her hands on her hips, frowning like a big sister. "If your brother's angry at me, I can take care of myself." She waved a hand. "He can be as pissy as a menstruating Orc for all I care." She pointed ahead, where they could see a small curl of smoke coming from among the rocks. "And see? It's just a few yards away."

The girl bit the inside of her lip when Alyra mentioned the Orc, wincing at how close to metaphor was to the truth. Before she could respond, Bu'u squawked, alerting the two of another approaching before turning in the intruder's direction, trying to catch sight of him through the brush.

Alyra tensed for a moment, a hand already on her small dagger. Then Zengu poked his head out of the trees, an ear quirking around before he noticed Alyra. His mouth opened to speak, then he paused, eyes falling on the slender human woman and the Raptor. He would have said something about Iscah, but the raptor had already lowered its head and was snarling at him, ready to charge. Zengu straightened from his slouch and snarled right back, taking on an alpha pose in a second. "Shut yer maw, hatchling," he growled, baring his own fangs, hands on his daggers. " 'Lyra, what's goin' on?"

Bu'u backed away and sunk low, obviously not about to put up a fight with a troll. Iscah murmured his name and the raptor moved closer, nervous but still protective of her. She reached out and stroked his neck with her good arm, finding it easier to concentrate on comforting Bu'u than on her pain.

Forcing herself to relax, Alyra took a deep breath. "Her brother's a clumsy shot with a bow and got her instead of the prey," she said.

Zengu raised a brow. "A human with a war-bred raptor?" He had no qualms abut asking probing questions. He strode forward, keeping his head held high and posture dominant. When he came before the little human girl, he bent down, nose to nose with her, peering into her eyes with his own. He sniffed, taking in her scent, and his eyes widened a bit.

" 'Nnother one?" he breathed. He reached out and grabbed her right hand, yanking the sleeve back and making her squeak. He stared down at the scars, Alyra's own eyes widening at the sight. A grin spread across Zengu's face. "Looks like I just keep findin' intrestin' girls these days..." he breathed.

Iscah tried to jerk away, gasping in surprise at the lack of respect for personal space. She tried to pull away but it was a useless gesture, watching the Troll's facial expressions with terror. "You are to slaver?" she asked in Trollish, misinterpreting his words completely. She looked to Alyra, her trust in the other woman shattered. She switched back to common. "You are his accomplice?"

Alyra blinked, frowning. "What? No!" she said, kicking Zengu soundly in the knee and shooing him back. "He's just... well..." She tilted her head. What _was_ he anyways? "Well, he's the _friend_ I told you about. He thinks I'm interesting and is following and pestering me." She scowled at him, trying to make him take another few paces back. But there was still fear in the girl's eyes, and she knew she'd have to do something quickly.

Sighing, she bit her bottom lip. Then she pulled off her glove—showing her blue hand—and gripped the sleeve that she always wore on her right. There was a loop going over her middle finger, and she slid it off before pulling the sleeve back, showing her own scars. "I know this could just make things worse, but I'm not gonna hurt you any more than I already have." She paused. "Well... the bandages sting a bit, but..." She shook her head. "Anyways! I am _not_ a slaver, and you _will_ let me patch you up!" Again, she sounded like a big sister. "Now, please make up your mind, as I'm staring to freeze my _nipples_ off!" Zengu snickered and she scowled at him.

The Mage's huge eyes moved between the two, trying to piece together exactly what she was going on. Alyra was mated to a troll? Or had been? Was this her mate? So many questions were rambling through her brain, but when Bu'u accidentally nudged her, the pain in her arm brought her out of her thoughts. She grimaced and stepping away from the suffocatingly protective animal. "Okay, okay. I… okay…"

She took a step towards the cave, pausing to look into the damp underbrush. Apoch was still out there, and it would only be a matter of time before he found her. Hoping that his reaction to the other two wouldn't be too bad, she followed Alyra inside the cave, sitting down by the fire with a sigh of relief. She held out her good hand over the embers, letting the heat warm her chilled fingers.

Alyra came in after her, diving for her pack and yanking out a shirt. It looked a bit too big for her, but she put it on and pulled a vest over it. "Good." She scooted over as Zengu came in as well. Bu'u came next, fighting his way over to Iscah and sitting down stubbornly beside her. The cave was slightly cramped now, but there was enough room to tend to the girl's wounds. Zengu pulled out the bandages from his own pack, tossing them wordlessly over to the half-Elf.

Her ears had come free of her hair, but she ignored them, setting about her work. After cleaning it, she began to wrap the bandages, murmuring an apology as Iscah inhaled sharply at the sting of the healing magic. "You don't have to answer, but I'm curious… Was it your _mate_ that shot you?"

"Eeeee! No!" Iscah crossed her legs to combat the sting, tears creeping out to catch in her lashes. "I don't know who shot me. When it happened my bro—" She broke off, then continued; was there any reason to continue with the lie? "He told Bu'u to run and he did. I guess it was a hunter but I couldn't see anything." She rubbed around the fringe of her wound, squirming slightly when the burn seemed to worsen instead of get better. "This hurts!"

"She's so tiny…" Zengu muttered, mostly to himself. "How in the world could any Troll bed her without breaking her?"

Alyra kicked at him in the cramped space, but he batted her foot away. She turned back to Iscah. "I know; it has to burn out any infections, and probably has to repair some damage to bone." She was no healer, but she'd done her share of first aid. "It'll stop in time. Be glad you only needed one application." She cracked her neck then stared at the girl again, frowning. "You need some dry clothes..." She looked at her pack. "Some of my clothes could fit for the moment… or do you have anything?" She nodded to the saddlebag on Bu'u.

"Ah. There's some in the bag," she managed, turning and fumbling with the satchel on Bu'u's side. The raptor was holding still—too still—as if he could feel something the others could not. Iscah didn't catch the mounts strange behavior, and neither did the others. The mage pulled out a gray robe, and showed it to Alyra. "This'll do."

Alyra held up a blanket as a wall, letting her change in private. When that was done, she sighed, sitting back down. "Well, looks like since there's company, I've gotta get some food." She looked at Bu'u. "Even if he is all big and scary, if he tries anything, you have my permission to take off a finger or two." She pulled on her cloak and put her gloves back on. "I promise, Miss, that you'll be fine." Then she slipped from the cave with a few things under her arm, presumably to catch dinner.

Apoch watched the human… Night Elf… half-Elf… leave, following her body language to make sure she hadn't sensed him. Two would've been a handful to deal with, but one off-guard rogue—who kept looking at his mate so intensely—would not be an issue. It was hard not to just charge in with the fury burning in his chest. The other male's presence made him so mindless with rage his hackles were up, the endless downpour making his crimson locks look more like medusa's serpentine locks than hair. Sliding beneath through brush, he stalked towards the cave, eyes locking on the healthy pulse of Zengu's jugular. It was the first mistake the high warlord had made in a long time.

He felt the pressure of the near-invisible trip-wire that the other Rogue had rigged around the cave, a small bell in the trees making an almost imperceptible sound of alarm. Apoch heard it, having rigged many of his own in the past, and he dropped his stealth for speed, barreling at the other Troll with bloodlust in his eyes.

Zengu barely got a dagger up in time, fire instantly flaring in his own eyes. He didn't think about whom this might be, or what they might want. The face on the other side of the crossed blades was almost familiar, but he pushed that aside as well. He slashed the other dagger up, the other Troll jerking back and only getting a slight nick on the cheek. There was _no_ room for them in the cave as long as the girl and the Raptor were inside.

He shifted his feet under him, trying to get more leverage. The face before his was alight with rage, fangs bared and dripping body showing every intention of killing him. And the speed that the other male had shown already meant that Zengu would have a difficult time with him. He glanced for a moment at Iscah, hoping she had the good sense to stay out of the way. This moment of inattention got him stabbed in the shoulder, and he snarled, jamming the end of his dagger's handle against the other's wrist. The dagger was pulled out, amid a small cry from the girl and a squawk from the Raptor.

Then—he'd been too surprised before—he realized that this was the Troll he'd smelled on Iscah. "Question, mon," he murmured, ever the calm, laid-back fighter, "she yers?"

The rogue moved back to arm's length, Bu'u wedged in a surprisingly small corner. Apoch's posture was utterly feral, a guttural snarl erupting from the back of his throat when Iscah thrust herself between them, grabbing onto her Mate's arm; it was slick with blood from the previous arrow wound. She reached up to try to pull his gaze down by a tusk, but he was utterly rigid.

"They helped me, Apoch! Stop this!"

"He was after you; you and your fucking whore, wasn't he?" he snarled at Zengu.

"So she is yers," Zengu muttered, staring at Iscah. He looked back up at the other Troll. "Me an' the 'whore' helped yer mate 'cause she got shot. I got no interest in 'er." He chuckled. "She's a cute one, but not my type." He rotated the injured shoulder, keeping the daggers up while Apoch could still lunge at him at any second.

"_YOU_ were the one that put her in danger _IN THE FIRST PLACE_!" He was so infuriated his voice was breaking with the strain of yelling. Iscah flinched at the rage; she'd never seen him so angry. She kept whispering his name in the silence, and he finally looked down, the tension almost visibly leaving his body as he sunk down to wrap his arms around his mate. He checked her over, but never put down his daggers. When he was satisfied that she had no other injuries, he looked back to the other male. "I should kill ye both and leave yer corpses on da road fer th' assassins t' find," he hissed. "At least den dey wouldn' mistake _my_ mate fer _yers_!"

Zengu scoffed. "Mate? Nah, mon." He shook his head, the bones in his hair clicking lightly. "Just find 'er intres'tin' is all." He set his own daggers to the side-but within reach-and his face lost the light grin. "But if ya try 'n' kill 'er, _Warlord Apoch_, I _will_ make sure dat dis pretty little girl has somethin' real t' cry over." And then he was once more laid back and calm, leaning against the wall with one hand behind his head. "Anyways, what makes ya tink 'e was after de two of ya, an' wasn' just some Horde hatin' human?"

"_High_ Warlord," Apoch seethed back, unconsciously drawing Iscah towards the wall so he could protect her more easily. Iscah shot Zengu an apologetic look, mouthing the words so Apoch wasn't aware. "No hunter is stupid enough t' attack alone unless dere's a bounty, ye should know dis," he let his eyes drop, roaming the rogues gear and snorting. "Or did I mistake ye for someone compet—"

"Apoch," Iscah warned, the troll taking a slow breath. He glanced down at his mate, and in that briefest second let Zengu see just how terrified he had been for his lamb, and how he knew just how fragile she really was. He flicked his crimson back up to the Rogue, sheathing one of his two daggers.

"Dat's true," Zengu agreed. "But we live in strange an' excitin' times. Ye never know when some fool's gonna be jumpin' out at ya." He sheathed one of his own daggers as well. He had seen the fear, and once more found himself wondering how a Troll could come to love a Human so dearly. He really had never heard of such a thing, until Alyra at least.

And at any rate, there were more important things to think about. It seemed that he or Alyra—or both of them—had a bounty on their head. Now, he was not a nice man, and knew that both of them had killed before. But why a bounty now? "Th' human... was 'e wearin' black armor, with some kinda blue symbols on it?" he asked quietly.

"Mmmh," Apoch nodded, jerking his head towards the north. "Strange get-up, for a hunter especially. He kept sayin' a phrase… or names. I'm no good with Human language."

"I learns troll fastest then him," Iscah interjected, grinning proudly, completely unaware of her mistake.

The corner of the high warlord's mouth twitched, but he kept his features bland. "Circled back t' make sure it had just been 'im, but didn' go too far up the trail. 'M sure it's long gone with th' rain."

"And I'd bet just about anythin' that you won' find a corpse, either," Zengu muttered. He fetched another log and put it on the embers. He switched to common then, a bit for the girl's benefit. "Should…" he paused for the word, "learn… 'ealin' magic. Save from more… trouble." He wouldn't mind poking and prodding at Iscah as well; she seemed the easily flustered sort. But he wouldn't bother.

"Oh what the _hell_ is this?" Alyra's voice snapped from the entrance. She was staring down at the now extremely cramped cave. "We're gonna have to move to one of the bigger ones, and they're hard as hell to warm up…" She slid down, coming up next to Apoch. She looked him up and down, then leaned in to Iscah. "Nice piece of Troll ya got there," she whispered in Common, winking as the girl blushed. She then produced three young and very dead ground hogs, and two snakes. She offered the latter to Bu'u.

Bu'u let them drop to the ground, shooting his master a terrified look. Apoch finally turned his attention to the raptor, which scrambled on his belly to him, the rogue cuffing him over the bridge of his nose affectionately. "Useless old man."

With the positive response Bu'u turned and snapped up the snakes, literally swallowing them whole in delight as Apoch mulled over the invitation Zengu's woman—_interest_—had given. He should in fact leave, and come back to slit their throats when Iscah was asleep; she and he had their own demons to deal with, without knowing that these two might well bring more trouble snapping at their heels. Iscah managed to wiggle free from behind Apoch and pop out to help Alyra, the high warlord watching her for a moment.

"Dere'll be more t' come, an' my _interest_ is in my mate's safety," he replied, giving a pointed look to Zengu. Man to man, he knew the other wasn't stupid.

Zengu gave a small nod. At least Apoch was as protective of his mate as any Troll should have been. Giving Iscah the sharper knife, Alyra asked to be filled in on what had happened, her eyes lingering on the blood that was drying on Zengu's shoulder and upper arm. She listened as they skinned and gutted the animals, her face darkening. One hand going to her chest, feeling the knife stuck into her breast band. It was lumpy and looked strange, but she wasn't going to let it out of her sight.

Zengu shrugged, wishing he could stretch out. "Didn' hear anythin' when we came through t'day," he murmured. "But do what ya gotta t' protect you and yers. Though…" He nodded towards the cave entrance a moment before a tremendous crack of thunder broke through the air, and the sound of the rain changed to that of a small waterfall pounding down from the heavens.

"Four better than two," Iscah interjected, looking up at Apoch who was staring at Alyra, taking count of her hidden weapons as easily as if she had had them in plain sigh. He looked back to Iscah, nodding for her to continue. "Stay here we, fight with as team." She looked hopefully at him, playing ignorant of the smoldering look he was giving her. The girl obviously knew his frame of mind, and the other two would have more to worry about than a just bounty if her mate decided to go through with his darker urges.

A muscle in Apoch's jaw twitched, battling out the argument with her in silence before he broke the standoff. He quietly—and halfheartedly—cursed his wife, and stepped back out into the rain without an explanation to their hosts. Iscah's shoulders relaxed in relief, and she returned to gutting the animals.

With some more room in the cave, they were able to spread out a bit. "Stubborn ass, ain't he?" she muttered. But he did seem to genuinely care for Iscah, so he had to have _some_ nice qualities. She started chewing on her bottom lip again, absentmindedly tossing the entrails and other unwanted bits to Bu'u. "There's a bigger cave a little ways away, but it has a somewhat small entrance…" She looked at the fire licking at the newly added log. "But if someone _did_ come along, and they were in a group, they couldn't get in without us noticing…" Her usually calm face was dark. "Bollocks… I just wanted to go to town and stock up…"

"Haven't seen a real bath in so long," Iscah drawled back in response, switching to common. She glanced shyly at Zengu, attention turning to Alyra. "I thought we were the only ones…"

"What? The only—? Oh." Alyra shook her head. She tapped the scar that crossed over the mating scars. "My mate died a while back." She kept her voice even, but the darkness bled from her face, replaced by gentle sadness. "Don't you ever let anyone die for you…" She looked up, quickly changing the subject. "Sorry, I don't even know your name. I'm Alyra."

"Iscah," she replied hastily, color rising to her cheeks at her lack of manners; it had been a rough day for sure, but that wasn't a valid excuse for not giving a greeting. "That was Apoch, he'll be back, I'm sure." She grinned shyly, looking back at her dressed carcass before handing it back over. "I think it might be better for us to go to the other cave. More space to stretch out and the safer the better."

Alyra nodded. "Alright then. Oh, the creepy one that stares is Zengu." She nodded at said Troll, and only got grinned at in response. "See? Creepy." She put on a face of mock indignation when Iscah giggled. "Oh sure, you think it's funny when you're not the one who woke up to find him perched at the end of your bed, looming like some specter from the Netherworld." Zengu snickered, and started packing things up.

"When I first met Apoch, he was standing over me after I had fallen asleep in a bath. Creepy must be a Troll thing." She giggled, realizing too late Bu'u had snuck out with his master. Picking up her ruined dress she folded it over one arm and picked up the groundhog in the other.

Alyra packed her things as well, wrapping her set armor in the oilskin. All she had to do was push aside what made the cave's door, and a gust of wind and rain put the fire out in seconds, as well as soaking Alyra to the core. She spit out a good deal of water, saying over her shoulder, "lovely weather for a stroll!"

She dove out into the rain, making sure that they were following her before she set off. The larger cave was close by, and they got to it quickly enough, popping through the entrance one at a time… and tumbling into a warm, dry, and comfortable atmosphere, complete with a cheery, crackling fire.

Iscah glanced at the flames, and then over at Bu'u's packs that had been left near the fire to dry out, steam rising from the leather satchels. Apoch joined them not long after, soaked to the core with half a dear—already skinned and gutted—Bu'u following after with his belly distended with food.

Apoch, with quick work of a knife, soon had the meat in slices for skewering, moving with military efficiency and falling into an old, familiar rhythm. Iscah had pulled out the surprisingly dry bedrolls, layering the two on top of each other and shooting Alyra a lopsided grin. "I'm still not used to sleeping outdoors. The past two months have been the most I've ever seen of the wilderness." She patted the extra padded mattress. "I miss my bed sometimes." Apoch cast his wife a smirk, but held back what would've been a tease; he was still not as comfortable with their companions as Iscah was.

The little mage was so easy to talk to, with an innocent and friendly demeanor that made Alyra feel almost wistful. She smiled as well, helping to skewer some of the meat. Her clothes were wet again, and she tossed her head to get a few wet spikes out of her face. She could feel the other Troll watching her, and met his gaze for a moment, raising one brow at him. Her guard was slowly coming up again, and she made a mental note of her boot knives.

Where Zengu's gaze was curious, Apoch's was different; darker, calculating, and with the coldness of an experienced killer. It was amazing how quickly such a glance could change, darkness melting warmth when Iscah turned to ask him the Trollish word for 'blanket'. He gave the answer with a gentle smile, leaning back after adjusting the skewer of meat over the flames.

"So why were ye two out 'ere?" he finally asked.

Alyra looked up, surprised at the lingering softness. Then she sighed. "I wanted to restock my home," she said, pulling off her second soaked shirt of the day and laying it out near the fire, resting a hand on the dagger between her breasts. "Now I have people trying to steal from me and then committing suicide and dissolving when they're beaten." She hugged her legs up against her chest and rested her chin on her knees. "Why is it that whenever you've finally succeeded in finding a way to hide, you get found?" Her lips pursed and pulled to the side, and she stared at the fire.

Apoch turned and looked at Zengu. "What's yer story?" He pulled Iscah into his lap, his body heat warming her back and the fire warming her front.

Zengu opened one eye, looking at the other Troll. "Most of it's a secret," he said. "But… I thought it might be fun t' follow dis girl around." Alyra grumbled slightly under her breath, but he just continued. "Needless t' say it's been excitin'." He had a much longer story, but he still didn't trust Apoch, just as Apoch didn't trust him. He knew who the other Troll was, and respected him, but respect and trust were two _very_ different things.

He kept an eye on the entrance now. He hadn't been this wary in a long time. He'd seen his share of war, but it had been a while. It was good to know that his old instincts were still keen. "How long 'ave you two been mated?" His natural curiosity was kicking in again.

"Voluntarily?" Apoch's grin was wolfish, Iscah's ears tingeing pink as she pursed her lips tight at the insinuation in his voice. "Not long enough. Just tryin' to find some peace t' take care of her."

Lips pursed, Alyra peered at the slightly blushing Iscah. A forced mating—forced was what this seemed to have started as—was something that made her hackles rise slightly. But she calmed down as she saw him nuzzle her neck; it was definitely real affection. Then words came rushing up, pouring out of her mouth before she could even think about it. "Don't either of you die for the other."

She slapped a hand over her mouth, and cursed softly. "Ignore that. Sorry. Personal issues." To her shame, her own cheeks darkened, and she buried herself in checking on the meat. It was Zengu's fault again. Ever since he showed up she'd had to face things she'd thought long buried.

Both of them looked over at her with the same look; one of disagreement. They had already put their lives on the line for each other and would do it again. Apoch shook his head, not bothering to argue the point. Leaning over he pulled the blanket and wrapped his wife in it, uncoiling from behind her and standing up to stretch out. He was easily a foot shorter than Zengu, but his lean, muscular form was sharp from years of discipline. "I'll take the first watch."

Zengu nodded his thanks, taking over Alyra's bedroll. She didn't object. She just kept staring at the fire, eyes half-closed. She knew exactly they felt; she'd had the same feelings. But when one lover _did_ die for the other, the one left alive was filled with such pain. It was a pain that she would have done nearly anything to avoid. It was a pain she wished on only one person in the world. She hoped that this mated pair never had to feel it. Her stomach growled, and she grabbed one of the skewers, biting into the mostly cooked meat, listening to the rain as she ate.

Iscah waited for a while in the silence, looking back up to her after a while. "You would've died for him, though," she murmured softly.

The words made the half-Elf ache. She knew they were true. She _would_ have died for her mate; she would have just as easily taken that ax for him. But didn't they owe each other to try and stay alive? To stay alive to keep loving the other? She bit her lip until it bled, a little trickle of red going down her chin. Damn insightful Human. _'I shouldn't have let him do it,' _she thought to herself.

Abruptly, she felt a pair of large fingers curl into the top of her leggings, and she yelped, jerking forward and nearly falling into the fire. She slowly glared around, looking at the grinning Zengu behind her. "C'mon, 'Lyra. Dwellin' on th' past is nevah good."

"It's good to look to the past, to learn from it, not dwell in it like he said," Iscah added softly. "That doesn't mean you need to let it hold you back from moving on." She smiled faintly, eyes a deep violet from the fire flashing in its dim light.

As Alyra looked at Iscah, Zengu sat up and leaned forward, sliding an arm around her waist and yanking her back. "Sleep," he said simply, locking his arm around her waist. She squirmed, trying to elbow him in the face. This only got her a tusk in the arm, and she growled at him. She looked over at the other two, and then at Bu'u. She still felt the same old ache in her chest, looking at the odd little family. But it was something out of reach for her now, and she closed her eyes, trying to put as much distance between her and Zengu while being held up against him. "I'll take next watch," she murmured.

Her dreams were far from vivid, and her sleep was restless. Zengu couldn't keep a hold on her, as she continued to toss and turn for hours. Sometimes she would grab hold of him, and at others she would shy away. All different sides of her surfaced that night. She was angry and fierce, and then she was meek and submissive. He watched her in the dark for some time, watching as she became more and more complex. She was not simply the feisty spitfire that had caught his attention; she was a real woman, with all kinds of feelings and emotions. Though she seemed to lean towards the passionate end of the scale.

When she finally seemed to be slipping into a deeper stage of sleep, she lay facing him, some space between them and her hair tangled around her. Her mouth was slightly open, quick little pants turning to long, even breaths. He lifted a hand, tucking some hair behind one ear. She snapped at him like a blind wolf pup, latching onto his finger and shaking slightly. Zengu held back an outright laugh, tugging in an effort to free the captured digit. This only made Alyra growl, gnawing on his finger for a few moments before her jaw went slack. He wiped the finger on her tunic, chuckling and shaking his head.

000

Marith and Marika were both reclining, their hands joined together. They sat on a lavish settee, plush cushions of dark velvets propping them up and scattered on the floor. Eyes closed, they appeared to be sleeping, sedated in the dark, cave-like room. But Terrin knew better. It seemed that the girls—if they could really be called that—never slept. Perhaps they slept at the same times that he did, but he never caught them sleeping. The only kind of rest they seemed to take was whenever they went into one of their many trances, murmuring in some forgotten tongue, eyes dancing under their lids.

"Another force of destiny…" Marith murmured, making the Blood Elf start, sitting up straight in his own chair, and listen attentively.

"Others with a strong force of destiny are very close to _her_," Marika purred. "We do not need another force influencing the flow of things."

Terrin stood up, walking over to stand before the settee. "What is the other force?" he asked.

"Another Troll and a Human…" Marith breathed. "The Troll is a vessel for a powerful creature, and the Human is a catalyst…"

"At least that is how it seems," Marika said. "Separated as we are…"

"…We can never be completely sure." They exchanged glances, expressions barely visible.

Terrin had never completely understood what the girls meant then they said that they were 'separated'; it seemed to him that they had never spent a moment apart. He itched to ask, but something always kept him from doing so. It wasn't quite fear that kept his mouth closed, but whatever it was, he still didn't know. He licked his lips. "What do you wish me to do, My Ladies?" he said, bowing his head.

"Send… Hmm…" They spoke in unison, and looked at each other, seeming to think together. There was a long pause before they spoke again. "Send… our _Shayd_."

Terrin's eyes widened, and he straightened up. "Th-the Shayd?" Shayds were creatures of legends lost in time, lost so long ago that their stories were hardly ever told these days. They were frightening beings as well, males and females equally as deadly. Elegant and fierce, there were few battles that they were said to have lost. The idea of speaking to the one that Marith and Marika held under their control made the Blood Elf tremble.

"Yes, send her," Marith said, nodding firmly.

Marika echoed the motion. "She is to _only_ watch. Nothing more."

"V-very well," Terrin said, bowing and moving backwards. "I shall inform her of your wishes."

000

Vannah could no longer remember her life before her imprisonment. She had been under the Twin's control for so long, that she had forgotten what freedom felt like. But she knew that she did not like being kept as a pet. She was given anything she wanted. She was given men and women—depending on her taste—during her reproductive cycle, people to kill when she was angry, and anything else she asked for.

But they never gave her freedom. Vannah had everything she wanted except what she thirsted for most. "I truly hate them," she breathed, laying back on her soft, plush bed. "Cliché as it is… I am a caged bird. Clipped wings…" She reached up towards the ceiling, fingers outspread. "What's a woman to do?" She let her arm drop back to the bed, and pushed herself up. She left the bed and strode over to the large, full-length mirror. As per usual, she wore little, today clad only in a billowing, sleeveless robe. It hung open, baring her naked body for her own gaze to take in.

Shayds had varying skin tones, all in some spectrum of red. Vannah's skin was a deep red, mimicking the color of human blood. Her slender body stood well over six feet, common for her race. She dropped the robe, turning slightly to the side, lifting long, claw-tipped fingers to cup her moderately sized bust. She tilted her head, blinking her strange eyes. What would have been white on a human was bright red, the irises as black as the pupils.

Vannah turned to show her whole profile, and her tail came into view. Extending almost a foot past the soles of her feet, the prehensile appendage was as smooth as the rest of her skin, flicking in an almost cat-like manner. Letting go of her breasts, she sank her fingers into her long, ebony hair. It hung to the beginning of her tail, and the Shayd took great pride in its beauty. She smiled, showing sharp teeth as black and shiny as obsidian.

She licked her black lips, the smile widening. Her tail arched, then curled around her left leg. The feminine form was truly a thing of beauty. Why would other women limit themselves to bedding men, when there was so much beauty in their own gender? Vannah strode away from the mirror, pulling on a tiny, black lace shift as she walked over to a door held closed by several locks.

With the tap of a claw on each of them, the locks popped open, and the door swung inward. "Hello lovelies," Vannah cooed into the room, stepping inside; the door swung closed behind her, the locks clicking into place. "Marko, T'mara, Rafael," she called, striding forward.

The room was scattered with pillows, cushions, beds, and couches. Human men and women of all kinds turned their gazes to the Shayd, some looking with fear, and some with desire. Two men and one woman extracted themselves from the others, coming towards their mistress. Both men were well muscled; they had obviously been fighters of some sort. The woman was much less toned, having come from a civilian family. But all three of them were attractive, clad in simple, but finely made garments of varying colors.

Vannah leaned in and caressed their faces in turn, stealing a slow kiss from each of them. She then walked back and forth in front of them, considering her choices. "Such beauty in the weak," she breathed. "Beauty in those brought to their knees in total defeat." She smiled, and chuckled. "You are mine to do with as I—"

"Vannah!" Terrin's voice was muffled through the door, but he was no less insistent. "Vanna, Lady Marith and Lady Marika have a job for you!"

Vannah's hand dropped to her side, and she glared scathingly over her shoulder. "Always when I'm about to have some fun."

000

_Bakko was there again, crouching behind her as she held a baited fishing pole over a little pond. She sat on a small grassy ledge, her bare feet dangling over the water. The surface was as dark as the clear sky above it, the stars wavering pinpricks of light. Normally, there would have been no point in fishing this late at night, but Alyra was using a particular kind of grub that produced a natural luminescence; she would be able to see if it went underwater. There were also nocturnal fish in this particular fishing hole._

_ "When did ya find dis place, Aly?" Bakko asked._

_ Realizing that she was once more in a dream—or vision—Alyra sighed. "When we were out swimming that one spring, when the cricket population grew to near plague proportions," she said softly. They were good memories, but it hurt to remember them. She wiggled the pole a bit and made the grub bob enticingly. "You showed me where to find the glowing grubs, remember?"_

_ He crouched next to her and peered at the fair-sized insect on her hook. "Aye, I 'member. Slimy buggers." He nudged her shoulder. "Ye need to get away from dat other pair, Aly," he whispered, eyes staring past the water now, and something intangible. "Deir destiny force could interfere wit yers…"_

_ Alyra looked over at him, frowning slightly. "Destiny force? What the hell's that?"_

_ He reached out, stroking her cheek with his knuckles, and the half-Elf leaned into his touch, closing her eyes. She missed the small twist of sadness on his face. "Dey have a powerful destiny about dem. Almost as strong as da one you've got. Wit da four of ya bein' so close, it could mess with da fabric of tings."_

_ "And that's bad, I take it," Alyra murmured. She pulled up the line, and plucked the grub from the hook, tossing it into the water. Fish too smart to go for it on a hook quickly snatched it up. She set the pole beside her and turned to face Bakko. The details of his face seemed… _fuzzy_ somehow, and she reached up, touch his face. He _felt_ real enough at least. "It's not a problem." She reached out, grabbing the front of his vest and pulling him close, wrapping her arms around him and squeezing. "Being around them just makes me sad anyways."_

_ "Alyra," she had always liked the way it sounded when he said her name, "ye have to stop runnin' from it all." He held her, stroking her hair. "Ya have t' face my death. 'S been ten years and ya still keep on runnin'. Why don' you let yourself—"_

_ "I'll get lost in it, Bakko," she rasped, choking up a bit. "I'll lose myself in all that grief." She hid her face from him. "Losing you killed a good chunk of my heart, and if I face that, I'll never be myself again. I'll never be who I was."_

_ He pulled her from his chest and lifted her chin to look into her eyes. "Would dat be such a bad ting?" he murmured. "People change over time; yer no exception to dat."_

_ "But you made me who I am!" Alyra whimpered, trying to force strength into her words. "You saved me from Goddess knows what and helped me become who I am! I already lost you, I can't lose what you helped be become!"_

_ Bakko's eyes fell with sadness. "Yer still not ready den," he sighed. "I can't tell ye what ye need t' know until ye can let me go." _

_ His solidness began to fade, the world blurring around them. Alyra cried out, feeling Bakko pull away from her. She reached for him, but he was already gone, and she was already waking up._

000

Alyra awoke tangled in the blankets, her skin feeling clammy under her clothes. She was surprised to find that Zengu had left the bedroll, but she was also grateful. She hoped that he had left before her sleep became too fitful, and before she had started dreaming. She didn't want to answer any more questions.

Keeping one of the blankets wrapped around her shoulders, Alyra sat up. The cave was darker now, the fire having died down to glowing embers. She crawled over, hearing some snorting from the sleeping Bu'u. She put some more logs on the fire, using a stick to prod some of the brighter coal closer to the wood. As smoke started to rise and drift outside, she looked towards the entrance. Without the driving rain, it was easier to see, and she glimpsed a black figure silhouetted against the night sky.

She tensed at first, but then a flame flared up, shedding just enough light for her to tell that it was Zengu sitting outside. She glanced over her shoulder, towards the back of the cave, and dimly glimpsed the forms of Iscah and Apoch curled together. Iscah was obviously sleeping soundly, but Alyra doubted that the protective Troll was doing much more than resting his eyes.

Exchanging the blanket for her cloak, the half-Elf climbed out of the cave, crawling over to sit next to Zengu. "Thought I was gonna take the next watch," she said quietly.

"Y' seemed like ya needed the rest," he murmured, turning his head and looking over at her.

"Well… I didn't," she muttered, refusing to meet his gaze and looking straight ahead.

Zengu snorted, and shook his head. "Y've hardly been asleep at all, 'Lyra," he said. "Ye were tossin' an' turnin' for hours. Figured it'd be bettah t' let ya sleep."

"So what if my sleep is restless?" Alyra said, shaking some hair out of her face, before starting to braid a small section of it. "Can't have a good night's sleep all the time." She waved her hand in the direction of the cave. "Go get some sleep yourself."

He remained where he was, still looking over at her. Trouble was starting to surround Alyra, and him by association. He could easily leave, and find some other interesting person or being to entertain himself with, bug giving up would just be boring. A little grin quirked the corner of his mouth. He had already been told a good chunk of Alyra's past, but he still wanted more, still wanted to delve deeper. She had an odd pull about her, something that made him want to continue following and questioning. She had more secrets that she was keeping, and had been keeping for a long time.

"Trolls really are good at staring creepily, aren't they?" Alyra muttered, breaking from his thoughts. She was watching him now, a half smile on her face. She shook her head. "And if Iscah's story is anything t' go by, they have a flare for making a dramatic entrance." She chuckled, and there was genuine mirth in her eyes. "Apoch appearing over her while she was bathing, and you showing up at the foot of my bed." She cocked a brow at him. "_Do_ you know the meaning of an invitation?"

Grinning back at her, Zengu shrugged. "Heard of it," he said offhandedly. "Quite da foreign concept, if ye ask me. Why bother askin' when ya kin just go ahead wit' it?"

Alyra desperately needed to escape her stress, and this conversation was becoming the perfect outlet. She gave a pure, genuine smile, laughing softly. "Saves time, but it's not gonna win ya any points with women," she said. She shook a mocking finger at him. "The next time you come into my bedroom, you'd better have an invitation."

Zengu moved quickly and fluidly, coming before Alyra and pushing forward, his hands pressing to the rock she was leaning against on either side of her head. "Aye, I plan to, 'Lyra," he said, trailing the tip of his tusk up her neck, and watching goose bumps rush across her skin.

She bit her lip and blushed slightly, but planted a foot solidly on his chest and _shoved_, landing him flat on his ass in front of her. She laughed again, a little louder this time, and it was a beautiful, clear sound. It actually stunned Zengu for a moment, and the look he gave Alyra made her pause as well. There was a tightening in her chest, but she swallowed, and ignored it. "Why're ya still here anyways?" she asked. "It's clear that trouble'll be followin' me pretty hard now."

He sat back up, resting his weight on the balls of his feet, forearms on his knees. "But ye don' know why dey be after ye?" Alyra shook her head. "Well, I wanna know why dese people—whoever dey are—be tryin' t' end yer life." He was perfectly calm, as if they were discussing what they would have for breakfast in the morning. "Yer getting' more in'trestin' by the day, 'Lyra," he said to her curious look. "Dere be more to ye dan whatcho've told, and I plan on learnin' it all."

She laughed dryly. "Good luck with _that_," she muttered. "I've told you all I plan to. No more question games, no more about my past. For all we've asked an answered, Zengu, we're still little more than strangers." The laughter and mirth had left her now, her blue and brown eyes serious.

"So no more games," he said lowly, standing as she did and advancing once more. "I'll get t' know ye the old fashioned way." The corner of his mouth quirked up, showing a sliver of fang. "I don' just give up if tings get a bit tough. I ain't goin' nowheres."

Alyra turned her head away from him, and crossed her arms over her chest. "Well, then I hope you can keep those daggers of yours ready." She shifted her feet, taking a stronger stance and standing at her full height. "I have t' find out who wants me dead, why, then find 'em and… _convince_ them to leave me the hell alone!" Her tone became bitter. "I've earned a bit of peace and quiet by now, even if I've never been the kindest of people."

"But peace 'n' quiet c'n be so borin'," Zengu said, making a face.

" 'Can be', Zengu," she said softly, meeting his eyes. " '_Can be_'. I've had enough of war and constant battle. A good spar now and then is one thing, but I'm tired of having to constantly look over my shoulder and of living with my hand on my sword." The fiery, stubborn determination that had first attracted Zengu was flaring in her eyes now, and she stared off to the forest. "I'm gonna take the back way into town, get what I need, and put an end to this rubbish. Then I'm going the hell _home_."

"What if there ain't a home to go back to?" Zengu breathed, brushing past her towards the cave entrance.

She jerked around to stare at him, but he had already vanished back inside. She looked away just as quickly, her hands clenching and unclenching. No matter what she told herself to the contrary, the Troll could be right. The home and safety of solitude that she tried so desperately to protect could already be destroyed. Her heart clenched and her eyes stung, but she didn't let herself cry. She _would_ put an end to this threat, and she _would_ go home. Home meant the world to her, and there was nothing and no one that had the power to take it from her.


	4. In Which Mounts are Acquired

_ A/N: At long last! Chapter four has arrived! Sorry for taking so long. I had a string of computer problems, and money has been a MESS. Anywho, here it is. Please enjoy and review!_

000

_ CHAPTER FOUR: In Which Mounts are Acquired_

The next morning showed that fall was truly setting in. The sky was cloudy, and as gray as a sheet beaten lead, the air chilly and wet. The night had passed without any further incident, and everyone had gotten some sleep… just not at the same time. While Iscah was warming up some of last night's meat, Alyra slipped off to change in private. She ducked into the cave where the previous evening had begun, and dropped her things on the floor, laying her sword—loose in its sheath—down more carefully.

She stripped down to nothing more than her skin, goose bumps rising quickly, every hair standing on end. She quickly donned her under clothes, hopping from one foot to the other on the cold stone floor. Then she pulled on her wool hoes, a thick cotton shirt, and a matching set of leggings that tied to the top of her hoes. The chill somewhat numbed, she sat down and rummaged in her bag of clothes.

There wasn't much to choose from, but then, she hadn't packed for a long journey. She pulled on the sleeve that covered her marital scars, then donned a dark blue tunic with a slight collar. She put on a pair of black leggings and stuffed them into her knee-high leather boots, setting her gloves aside for later. She put on another shirt—dark grey cotton—with short, wide sleeves. Then came her leather armor, and she set the molds once more in the back of the cave, concealed with rocks, stones, and other bits of wood.

Alyra rolled up the other garments, and packed them tightly back into her bag. She returned to the larger cave belting on her sword, and was met by the enchanting smell and sound of sizzling meat. She sat down, Zengu—at her left—pulling meat from a skewer with his teeth. Apoch and Bu'u were gone, likely out scouting. There was a good deal less tension now that the Warlord was gone, but Alyra couldn't really blame him. What he held most dear and precious had been threatened and harmed. In his place, she knew that she would have done and felt the same.

The wound that Zengu had gotten from the other Troll was all but gone, and Alyra felt—not for the first time—envious of a Troll's regenerative ability. What trouble it would save not to have to worry about the infections of the smaller injuries… She sighed, taking the skewer that she was offered by the small Mage. But when she nodded her thanks, Alyra noticed a few dark spots on Iscah's pale skin, peeking from under her robe, as well as a small red scab on the lobe of her ear.

For a brief moment, she was concerned, but it quickly dissipated, replaced by a rye smile. There were likely much more extensive marks on the rest of the girl's body, and probably a few scars as well. A wistful smile curved her lips as she touched her left shoulder, knowing that under the armor and clothing was a very clear bite mark, pressed into her skin and still as clear as ever.

"You two are going then?" Iscah asked, breaking the silence, a bit of a frown pulling at the corners of her pretty mouth.

Alyra nodded firmly. "I am at any rate. Don't see any point in giving Apoch any more reasons to want me dead." She would miss the company of the other two though, even if being around several people after years of being alone made her feel a bit strange. She had easily slipped back into being able to deal, but she felt like she was acting outside herself, as if she had been removed from her body and was controlling herself like a marionette, not reacting in the moment, but rather simply going through the motions. Even so, having company had been somewhat pleasant while it lasted.

Zengu tossed his skewer into the dying fire. "I ain't goin' t' letcha go anywheres alone," he said, putting a hand over his heart and feigning nobleness. "I gotta look after ya."

"Pssh!" Alyra gave a short laugh, shaking her head. "More like _stare_ after. You Trolls really do have the knack for being creepy." There was a small smile though, and she basked in the levity while she could. She rummaged in her bag and pulled out a map, unfolding it and laying it out on a flat spot of ground beside her. "Alright I want to get to Bryer, and—"

"Where?" Zengu was peeking over her shoulder.

Alyra tapped a spot on the map, the labeling of the dot obviously written by a hand different from the map maker. "Tiny place," she said. "Not on most maps. It's pretty much just a cluster of buildings and vendor stalls in a meadow." She chewed her bottom lip, fishing hairpins from a pocket on her pack and staring to pin her hair over her ears, brows slightly furrowed. "Alliance and Horde go through and stay, and it's where I usually get my supplies." She looked at Iscah's bandaged arm, feeling an uncomfortable pang of guilt. "I can mark some out of the way paths for you and your mate, so that you don't get into any more trouble."

The girl looked down. "It's really not your fault, Miss D'rowenth," she murmured, "no matter _what_ Apoch said."

"Don' stop me from feelin' bad that an innocent got hurt," Alyra said, just as quietly. "I suggest you an' Apoch hurry on your way as soon as you can." She folded the map back up and stowed it. "I'll be off soon."

"_We'll_ be off soon," Zengu muttered picking his teeth. "I told ya, 'Lyra, I'm—"

"Oh for the sake of the Mother Goddess!" Alyra snapped. "Stop following me around! I've fended for myself for thirty-six years, and I survived Booty Bay when I was fourteen! _Four-Teen!_ I don't need help!" She swung on her cloak and grabbed her things, slipping out of the cave.

She came face to face with Apoch and his raptor, Bu'u making her jump more than the warlord. She steadied herself, then looked him straight in the eye. "Don't you _ever_ die protecting that girl. Protect her and fucking _live_." Her voice was icy, and startled Apoch so much that he actually stayed still for a moment. "When someone dies to protect another, the one left behind is left with unimaginable pain. Don't you die and leave Iscah with that pain." Then she pushed past him, walking towards the trees. "I wish you two all the luck in the world."

Apoch scoffed. "Heh. Just 'cause yer mate died so pathetically, don' give ya the right t' talk t' me about how I should be livin'."

Alyra stopped in her tracks, biting deep into her lip, blood trickling down her chin. Everything dark in her mind screamed for her to draw her sword, and to take Apoch's head. She turned, slowly, and faced the Troll. There were many things that she could have said or done. She longed to listen—for once—to the dark side of herself, to give him a taste of the pain she had endured. But Iscah was out of the cave now, standing close to Apoch. She looked from him, to Alyra, and back, worry in her eyes.

Alyra's rage left her in a rush of breath, and her shoulders sagged. "Watch his back, Iscah," she murmured. "Dunno why ya love 'im, but ya do, so make sure he's safe." She heard Zengu moving about, coming towards the cave mouth. It was time for her to go.

She turned and began down the hill, setting off at a run when she reached the base, wanting to put as much distance between herself and the others as possible—especially Zengu. She didn't want his company any more. Yes, another set of hands would have been useful with what she was planning on doing, but she didn't want _him_, of all people, following her. He poked and prodded too much. He knew her past, but only a little sliver of it. She would tell him no more. She thought she heard someone following, and sped up her pace, darting through familiar trees and pushing ahead.

He still knew enough to make her uncomfortable.

000

A while later, the hem of her cloak and boots splattered with mud, and with burning lungs, Alyra finally slowed. She was sure exactly how long she'd been running, but she knew that she was alone now. A sigh of relief left her, and she rolled her head from side to side, cracking her neck. She breathed deeply of the moist air, holding it in her lungs before letting it rush out again.

_'It really is better like this. I'm better off. Alone, I don't have to worry about anyone else and what they're thinking or doing.'_ She nodded firmly at the though, straightening her back as she walked. She could move more easily on her own, and she wouldn't have to be constantly wondering about Zengu. She wouldn't have to waste energy being annoyed at him any more either.

She continued to tell herself this over and over again, moving along animal paths and doing her best to tread only on the hardest ground, not wanting to leave too obvious a trail. She had cut herself back to the simple instincts of traveling, and keeping out of sight. She had learned to be alone, and now that she had—hopefully—gotten away from Zengu, she was intent on _staying_ that way.

_'People can't hurt you if you're alone.' _

Alyra let out a dry laugh as the words floated through her mind, an old mantra that she hadn't thought of in a long time. She pushed off from a tree, splashing into a puddle. Hoping that the water couldn't find a way into her boots, she looked around for somewhere to jump where she wouldn't leave an imprint. "Bugger." All she could see within jumping distance was soggy, mossy ground. Sighing, she stepped from the puddle, and into more mud, waving her hand to fend off the bugs that were starting to gather.

"Yer bein' stupid, 'Lyra," Zengu murmured, voice dropping down from the branches of the tree that Alyra was standing under.

The half-Elf spun around and looked up. "I thought I made it clear that I didn't want you following me!" she snapped.

He grinned down from his perch, forearms resting on his knees. "An' I thought I made it clear dat I don' care," he said quietly. He dropped down behind the tree, vanishing for a moment before he grabbed Alyra from behind, pinning her arms at her sides, and wrapping his left arm around her shoulders. He was slightly hunched, and as he straightened, he lifted her into the air. She started to buck and squirm, spitting curses and insults at him as he carried her back towards the tree.

Zengu spun Alyra around and slammed her against the tree, holding her by the throat with one hand, and pressing his other arm across her shoulders again. The lazy, calm look was gone from his face, and the gold of his eyes flashed with a frightening intensity. "I dunno what happened t' ya, 'Lyra, but 's no reason to act _stupid._" He grabbed her chin, making her look at him. "Yer goin' up against someone who c'n send as many assassins as dey want."

"I can take care of myself!" Alyra spat, trying to kick him.

He took a fluid step forward, and pinned her with the weight of his body, slamming a free hand into the wood next to her head. "No, ye _can't_," he growled. "Yer bein' a stupid cunt 'cause a somethin' in da past." Zengu leaned in, pricking Alyra's cheek with his tusk. "I don' care how bad it messed ye up, dat's no reason ta charge off like a brain dead berserker!"

The intensity of his words and gaze quelled Alyra's anger, making her stare at him, eyes wide. Why was he so adamant that she not take unnecessary risks? They weren't friends, and they hardly knew anything about each other. She frowned deeply at him, tilting her head as much as his grip on her chin would allow. He was making no sense. She remained silent, just staring at him with a frown. When he said nothing, she started struggling again, and managed to grab hold of Zengu's belt.

"I'm just one person, but I can do a hell of a lot more than you think I can! I've been fighting for over thirty years! I'm strong, dammit!" She wasn't so much fighting to get free now, as just thrashing in frustration. Zengu was right, and she did _not_ want to need help. She didn't want to be in a position again that required someone else's help to achieve her goals. It had been different when she'd been a child. But she was fifty years old—even if she didn't look it—for Goddess's sake!

Then she felt a sharp snap against the shell of her ear, and she yelped, her eyes opening. Zengu had flicked her sensitive ear, and was staring at her as if she were a foolish and petulant child. "Don' mean yer weak if ya need ta ask fer help, 'Lyra. Jus' means dad deres someone stronger 'n ya."

Her brows furrowed and her lips pressed together. "That doesn't make me feel any better, you know," she muttered.

Zengu eased his hold on her, hands simply resting on her shoulders. "Wasn' supposed ta," he said. "Tellin' ya a fact. And I don' mind ya enough dat I'm gonna stick wit ya fer a bit."

Alyra crossed her arms over her chest. "Don't make no sense," she said, looking to the side. "You don't know me, not really. And you're doing something only a true, close friend should do." She looked back to him, genuine confusion showing plainly on her face, brows furrowed. "I mean it. I _do not_ understand you, Zengu. You find me interesting, okay. But why _help_ me? You could just follow and watch; if I die, I die. I don't get why you're so intent on helping."

Some of the intensity faded from the Troll, and he winked at her. "What's da point if ya learn everyt'in' right away, 'Lyra?" he said, grinning. "Isn't it more fun if ya play out da mystery?"

She rolled her eyes. "Not for me, it isn't," she said. "I like getting my answers straight out."

He stepped back from her, tweaking her nose. "Well, dat's too bad den," he chuckled. "Now, lets get ta dis 'Bryer' of yers."

For a while, Alyra just stared at Zengu. She stared at his strange armor and at his weapons, at his broken tusk and tattered ear, and at the charms she could see in his hair. She looked him up and down, then let out a long, low breath, shoulders sagging slightly. "Hell's bells… _Fine."_ She threw up her arms and turned away, starting to walk again. "Just don't get in my way." She missed his happy, tooth bearing grin at her back, still shaking her head and muttering under her breath in Common.

000

It didn't rain any more, but that didn't make the forest any less wet. As the day wore on, the last few insects left alive detected the two mammals. Alyra had never much liked bugs, and her dislike rose as she and Zengu trekked on in silence. She had expected him to start in on asking more questions, but he hadn't. He hadn't said a word to her since they started. Without the conversation to occupy her mind, Alyra's thoughts turned back to Iscah and Apoch.

She truly did wish them happiness together, and hoped that they lived roughly the same amount of time. She had sometimes wondered what would become of her father when he inevitably outlived her mother. She knew that the two had been very much in love… maybe it was better that they had died together?

_'They left me alone in the world…'_ Bitterness made her brows furrow and her jaw tighten. She picked up the pace, half jogging between the trees now. Her life had been so simple before Zengu had come along. If it hadn't been for that patrol, she could have just continued on with her life. There should _not_ have been a patrol there at that time in the evening. It hadn't fit any pattern that she knew; they just shouldn't have been there! Her teeth clenched, and she searched her mind, going through the patrols that had gone through the area for days before.

"Damn an' blast! They just shouldn't have fucking _been_ there!"

"Eh?" Zengu, who had been easily keeping up, came up beside her.

"The patrol you saw me fighting," Alyra said. "I keep track of _every single one_ that goes through the area!" She began worrying her bottom lip between her teeth again, scowling hatefully at the perfectly innocent mud before her.

"Dey coulda changed tings up," Zengu suggested, scratching the tip of his nose before swatting at a bug. "Been known to 'appen."

"But I would have gotten _word_!" Alyra insisted. "They had just started a new pattern a few weeks before, and I had been following it fine." The frustration was practically radiating off her. "They don't change things that quick. It's like… It's like they were sent _specifically_ to find me. But how could they have…" She went silent for a moment, still chewing on her lip. "Makes no sense. 'Ve slipped up before, but not that bad."

Inwardly, Zengu conceded that she had a point. For someone as seasoned as she was, it was odd for her to make such a grave error. Also, spies were getting sneakier and sneakier these days, so maybe someone _had _noticed her. He could understand her discomfort with not knowing. She had gotten a nice piece of land and had had a pretty good life. Now there was someone—perhaps multiple someones—trying to kill her, steal that knife, or both; neither of them were quite sure which.

"Could be worse, ya know," Zengu said.

"How?" Alyra snapped with a heavy roll of her eyes.

"Day coulda already killed ya," he said simply.

She stopped, pursed her lips, then sighed, nodding. "Yeah, yeah. If you're not dead, I suppose it could always be worse." She shook her head violently, trying to escape the bugs. "Dammit, it's _fall_! Shouldn't you all be dead?" She never had much liked bugs. At least on the Barrens there weren't a lot of little flying ones. "I feel like killing something," she muttered bitterly.

"Mmm. Ye'll probably get dat wish eventually." Zengu's voice was calm and quiet, and he didn't seem to be paying much attention any more. She glanced back at him, and saw a distant look in his eyes; something had him quite wrapped up in his own thoughts. She tilted her head, opening her mouth to ask, then stopped. His talking had bothered her before. Now she had the silence she wanted. After all, talking lead to getting to know people better. And getting to know people better lead to getting attached to them. And that was the last thing she wanted. He would help her survive, and that was all.

A newly determined look in her eyes, Alyra forged ahead, now paying little attention to her traveling companion. The silence remained, and both of them drifted off into their own worlds, only paying attention enough to be aware of their immediate surroundings.

000

Late in the morning, the sun had cut through the sky and found the earth, burning away the fog and warming things up. Alyra and Zengu seemed to have come out of the area hardest hit by the rain, the ground no longer seeking to steal their boots or trap them in place. There was still the occasional squelch, but the day's unpleasant beginning was lifting slightly.

And though some things were still bothering her, the half-Elf was in a significantly better mood. Her hood was back, and she had tightened the pins that kept her hair over her ears. The smells of the forest and the bounce of her pack against her as she moved were all too familiar to her, and she managed to enjoy them without letting them bring up painful memories.

Zengu, on the other hand, was just as quiet as before, and seemed even deeper wrapped in his own mind. This didn't bother Alyra, as she was currently going over what she'd need. She had packed for a short trek to Bryer, but now was going to have to pack for a long journey; an adventure perhaps.

_'Going to need field rations, and a better healing kit,'_ she thought, ticking off items on her fingers. _'Extra oil for sword sharpening, leather patching… maybe even some chain mail. Ooh, that'll be expensive. How much money did I bring again?'_ She sighed heavily. _'At this rate, I'll need a mount to carry all this…'_

She stopped walking, gripping her chin and frowning. Zengu, in a shameful display, didn't notice this, and slammed into her. Thankfully, he was instantly jolted back to reality, and caught his balance—and Alyra's shoulder—in time to keep them both from making close friends with the moss and dirt.

"Oi! Zengu!" She turned around, mouth open to reprimand him, and stopped. Her hand instantly went to her sword hilt, and she nodded to her right. Zengu's ear twitched and he tensed slightly. Now that they were both properly aware of their surroundings, they could hear someone—a gruff old male—speaking Orcish. The speaker was obviously quite annoyed with something, and the grunting of equally annoyed animals carried with his voice.

"Jus' one," Zengu muttered, relaxing a bit, "an' dey pro'bly be a merchant, by da sounds of it."

Alyra would have very much liked to ignore this oddity and move on, but her thoughts went back to the likelihood of her needing a mount for the significant traveling ahead. She frowned for a moment, then started off in the direction of the noises. "I'm gonna see if I can get a mount a some kind for cheap," she said over her shoulder, pulling her pack around and rummaging inside for her money.

Blinking, Zengu shrugged and followed. He didn't know how much of the Orc language she spoke, and it wasn't as if he was going to keep going on without her. He caught up to her quickly, just as she was pulling up her hood. The Orc wasn't trying to be quiet at all, and they easily caught up to him.

He was driving a moderately sized gypsy wagon, pulled by a set of sturdy draft horses. All kings of things rattled from inside the wagon, the sound of pots and pans accompanied by the chattering of smaller animals. And, tied to the side of the wagon and looking quite unhappy about it, was a silvery talbuk.

That was what caught Alyra's gaze, making her stop and stare. It was obviously a creature bred for war, and the fact that it had seen battle was just as easy to see. Scars dotted its body, one of its great horns missing a few inches at the top. Again and again it shook its head, snorting and protesting. Her heart went out to the animal as she saw some fresher marks, those the product of abuse. It's pale blue beard, mane, tail, as well as the fur on its legs were tinged with gray.

"Hey! Speak Common?" Alyra called out, waving a hand.

Startled, the Orc pulled on the reins, drawing the wagon to a halt. From the far side of the wagon came soft, reptilian screeching, and a pair of well-muzzled raptors came into view. Instinctively, Alyra backed up, but quickly turned her attention from them, as the owner spoke.

"Aye," he said, turning in the seat and eyeing the odd pair that now stood a few yards away. After looking them up and down, he said, "whacha want?"

Alyra stepped forward, fixated on the talbuk. It snorted and stamped a hoof, shaking its head and deadly horns at her. "He's seen service, hasn't he?" she asked, eyes traveling over his scarred form again.

"Yeah, old one, 'e is," the Orc said, jumping down from his seat. "But 'e won' let ye ride 'im. Headed fer the knacker."

"But he's still able to fight," Alyra said, brows furrowing. "He wasn't limping; I don't see anything wrong with him."

"There ain't. He jus' won' let a soul ride 'im," the Orc insisted. "Tried time an' again, with many a veteran, but he won' take no rider. Tries to gore 'em all."

Zengu eyed the talbuk suspiciously, and it looked back with just as much dislike, almost seeming to scowl. "Don' seem ta be worth da trouble," he said. "Last ting ya need on a journey is to have ta be worrin' 'bout what yer mount is doin'."

"Pardon me manners. Me name is Kruug," the Orc said with a bob of his head. As always anxious to make some money, he stepped forward, all smiles. "If yer lookin' for a mount that'll take a poundin', I got a pair of raptors that'd do ya a great service."

Alyra instantly shook her head. "No," she said firmly. "Absolutely not. No raptors." She moved past Kruug, standing only a few feet from the talbuk now. "I want him." The animal laid back its ears at her, stomping. She saw him about to rear up, and she hooked her fingers in his nostrils, holding tightly.

"Hush, ya ol' bugger!" she snapped, glaring into his eyes. She didn't back down or show any kind of weakness, grabbing old of his beard with her other hand. " 'S obvious you're a strong one, and that you haven't been treated as well as you should. But that's _no_ reason to be so damn ornery to someone who means ya no harm."

Zengu blinked, brows raised, watching silently along with Kruug. The animal had been quite ready to gore and trample them all a second ago, but now all his attention was focused on the gutsy—and perhaps mad—woman holding him tightly. It probably had something to do with the Elf blood in her veins.

"I won't whip you, and I don't use spurs," she said softly, scratching his chin a bit now. "No crop either. Just little kicks and nudges to let you know how I wanna go. An' I promise that you'll get to see battle again, old man." The talbuk's ears came forward a bit, tail twitching. He seemed to be considering her now, almost sizing her up.

She continued. "Won't be easy, by any means. I have a lot of traveling to do." She let go of his nose and stroked it gently. "I'll need ya to work with me, alright? You do as I ask, and I'll treat ya right." She scratched under his forelock, smiling softly at him. "How's that sound, old man?"

She ignored the unsettling noises of the raptors to her left, gently stroking the animal's neck, her gaze locked with his. She had never been much with magic, but she could at times call up the soothing quality in her voice that her father's entire race had. She wanted to let the animal have a life again, the life she could feel he longed for. He was not the type to be put out to pasture; with his kind of mount, you rode him until he died, and thanked him for it afterwards.

Silence settled for a few moments, and everyone waited. Finally, after what felt like ages, the talbuk snorted softly, nudging Alyra's chin with his nose. Her face broke out in a smile and she kissed his forehead softly. "Thanks, old man," she whispered. She looked back to Kruug. "How much for him?"

The Orc was staring at the new pair in open-mouthed amazement. He had to swallow a few times before he could talk again. "Hell, this ol' bastard's done nothin' but _cost_ me. I'll give 'im to ya for th' cost of his tack."

"Thank you!" Alyra burst out, looking, for a moment, like a young girl receiving a precious gift. "Does he have a name?"

Walking around to get the animal's tack out of the wagon, Kruug said over his shoulder, "Korano."

Even though Zengu knew that he could easily keep up with Alyra on a talbuk if he wanted, exerting all that effort didn't seem worth it when he could just as easily find a mount of his own. While Alyra and the Orc were settling on a price for Korano and his tack, Zengu walked to the other side of the wagon and considered the raptors. At first, he thought it was a male and a female. But as he took a closer look, he saw that it was a pair of females, one of them significantly larger than the other.

She was blandly colored with gray-green tones, and her keen eyes flicked over him with interest. Her talons were a bit smaller than those of the opposite sex, but she danced about with the energy of the best young males. " 'Ey dere, missy," he cooed softly in Zandali, holding out his hand to her muzzled maw. She sniffed his hand over, then bumped her head against it. When the other female approached to sniff as well, the larger one squawked and shouldered her away. Zengu laughed aloud. "What trainin' does dis gal 'ave?" he called out.

Sensing the possibility of another sale, Krug poked his head around the wagon. "Taki? She be'aved so much like a boy she got a good chunk of battle trainin' a'fore they realized the mistake. I've kept 'er sharp though. She'd make a fine beast for a Troll like yerself."

Taki bumped her head against Zengu's side, and he punched her side lightly. She was a strange one indeed. She seemed eager enough to please, and if Alyra had the patience to deal with an old war veteran, then he supposed that he could have the patience to deal with a female raptor with only part of her war training. He chuckled softly, fishing out his coin-purse.

000

Even if Korano was no longer considering attacking Alyra, that didn't mean that he was being completely pleasant. He, like his new master, was _not_ fond of raptors. He would whicker and short, side stepping away from Taki and Zengu, tossing his head. His ears would often go back, and he bumped Alyra in the back more than once with his hard forehead as she lead him through a cluster of thick growing trees.

She stumbled more than once because of him, and paused to glare over her shoulder. "If you don't stop that I'm gonna let Zengu lead you along with that great big lizard of his." Acting far more intelligent than she expected, Korano let out the talbuk version of a sigh, and decided to be a good boy.

To the right, Zengu stifled a laugh, shaking his head. Taki was oddly affectionate for a raptor, but he didn't particularly mind. Her price had been modest for a good mount, but it had set him back a good deal. He wasn't worried, however, as he was sure he could take care of a few small quests on the way to… wherever it was they were going. Maybe Vosh'zall could help them. He'd mention her later, after her heard whatever Alyra had in mind, if anything.

They went on in silence, and simply listened to the forest around them. The only other living things they came across were of no consequence, and would have been more suited to lunch than to fighting. Finally, the trees thinned out a bit, and the ground evened; it was time to ride.

"C'mon, Old Man," Alyra murmured as they drew to a halt. His reins hooked over her arm, she attached her sword sheath to his tack on the proper side. "We have an agreement, remember?" She put her foot in the stirrup and hauled herself up into the saddle.

It was worn from use, but comfortable enough. She shifted around, Zengu watching in mild amusement. When she finally had found a comfortable position, she pressed her heels lightly into Korano's sides. "See? No spurs." She glanced over her shoulder, meeting Zengu's gaze. He was grinning at her, and she rolled her eyes, but there was a hint of mirth in them. "You too, Mister Troll," she said. "If you're so intent on following, lets get a move on!"

He murmured a few soft Zandali words to the reptile, and then swung up into the saddle. Taki squawked at first, then settled, idling from side to side on her taloned feet. She tilted her head and looked over at Alyra and Korano with one bright green eye, slitted pupil flexing slightly. Even though Alyra knew that Zengu—she had at least a _little_ trust in him—would do is best to keep the creature in check, Alyra couldn't shake her fear of it.

As the four fell into a line—Zengu and Taki in front so that the other two mammals could keep an eye on them—Alyra allowed her mind to drift slightly, remembering exactly _why_ she was so scared of raptors.

_It had been after her Mating, when Bakko had been collecting herbs for his spells and salves, and she had been helping. Having separated some time ago, Alyra was wondering the forest paths on her own, a basket held against her hip and a small knife in hand. Her mismatched eyes scanned the ground, comparing the flora she passed to the herbs that the Troll had burned into her memory through repetition. Even if she wasn't a healer of any sort, the older shaman had _insisted_ that a warrior needed to know healing herbs just as much as any doctor. Not to mention the poisonous ones._

_ "Goddess… there are so damn many," she thought aloud, crouching down in a small cluster of chamomile flowers. It wasn't exactly for _healing_, but it was a useful plant none-the-less. Setting her basket down beside her, pulling a length of twine from her pocket and holding it between her teeth, she began to cut the stems. She severed them low to the ground, putting the plant between her thumb and the knife, and pinching it off. Bakko had taught her how to do it without cutting herself, but she still had a few fading lines from botched attempts._

_ Having been a much more jovial person in the past, Alyra began to hum an old lullaby under her breath, happy to breathe in the calming smells around her. Granted, not all of them were pleasant, but she knew them well, and they filled her with a sense of ease and peace of mind. A smile curved her lips, and her tongue fiddled with the fresh piercing just under her bottom lip. She had a little amethyst charm ready for it, but for the time being, there was a simple little gold post for her lip to heal around. "Ow!" She winced, and bit her tongue. "Stupid Ali'." That had been Bakko's pet name for her since the beginning, and a happy blush rose to her cheeks._

_ She was desperately happy with her marriage, and didn't care if anyone disapproved. Her mother would have been nervous, but would have done her best to accept it. Alyra's father, on the other hand, would _not_ have liked his daughter, unaccepted by society as she was, to marry a Troll, and open the door to even more hate and discrimination. That… and he wasn't all that fond of the Horde._

_ A sad chuckle left the young woman, and she shook her head. "Bakko's so unlike the stereotype of his kind… and unlike his kind in general… I think you'd have liked him, father."_

_ A twig snapped behind her, and she went rigid; Bakko never snuck up on her. Slowly, shifting her grip on the knife, Alyra turned her head and peeked over her shoulder. A female raptor, sporting no frills or horns like males, stood with her head lowered and maw open, baring her teeth. This in itself was frightening enough, but what _truly_ frightened the half-Elf was the fact that there were two small hatchlings standing on either side of the female. She was a _mother_, the most terrifying being in almost every species._

_ "No!" Alyra hissed under her breath. "No, no, no, no!" Her hands clenched, crushing the delicate flowers she'd been holding. She kept low, head bowed but eyes fixed on the creature. This was bad. This was very, Very, VERY bad! She edged backwards, keeping a hold on the knife but keeping it out of sight behind her back. "Easy…" she murmured in Zandali, Bakko's tongue, even though this was obviously a wild raptor, and it probably didn't know any command words._

'Son of a shriveled old dock whore!'_ she thought viciously, eyes flicking about for any sign of Bakko. He could have helped her. Yes, she was a good fighter, but she had only a tiny knife that was about half the size of the mother raptor's talons. Then, by the grace of the Mother Goddess, Alyra's eyes settled on a tree with low branches. She could climb it!_

_ Raptors did indeed have strong claws, but they couldn't climb very high. If Alyra could get high enough fast enough, she could call for Bakko and he could come to her rescue. She cursed silently at the last thought; she still hated depending on others, even if she had learned to do it a bit more easily in the past few years._

_ She began edging slowly towards the tree. The raptor lowered her head and growled her odd, bird-like growl, stalking slowly forward. It saw her as a threat to its young, and that was as good a reason as any to attack. Alyra understood this perfectly—she'd had her share of cats that had given birth to kittens and been protective—but that didn't mean she was all that happy about it._

'Get to the tree, get to the tree, get to the Goddess Damned TREE!'_ She repeated the chant over and over in her head, edging closer as the mother got nearer and nearer to her. Finally, the tree was a mere three feet away, the raptor not much farther. Everything went still. There were no birds singing or fluttering from branch to branch, and no animals scurrying through the underbrush. They had all fled at the approach of the predator._

'Like I should have done…'_ Angry at herself and with her heart pounding in her chest, Alyra tried to take deep breaths. But she couldn't calm down. She was facing death by mauling, after all. Her bottom lip was trapped between her teeth, and they were dangerously close to breaking skin. She was so close to safety… Alyra lunged, pushing all the strength that she could muster into her legs. _

_ Some might expect her to remember what happened next in slow motion. Instead, all she remembered was her hands grabbing hold of branches, heaving herself up, and then her belt being yanked back. She crashed to the ground on her back, and saw the raptor looming over her. She screamed, throwing her arms up to protect herself. Talons swiped at her, nearly taking off several of her fingers. Blood sprayed, and she screamed again, the sound sending hiding animals even further away._

_ Then more pain—burning agony this time. It blazed down her chest between her breasts, and the heat of blood bloomed through her shredded tunic and vest. She beat at the attacking legs, slashing with her puny knife. There was squawking and screeching like a hawk, more fiery pain, and then a flash of light that sent the monster reeling back, away from its prey. Instantly, Alyra rolled into a ball, drawing her injured hands into her equally wounded chest._

_ A familiar voice was shouting garbled spells; she couldn't understand them through the pounding in her head. More squawking, and then Bakko's blurry face above her. "Ali'!" he cried, rolling her onto her back again, trying to get her to show him the injury. "Ali', show me!"_

Slowly, the memory drifted away, and Alyra came back to reality, lifting a hand up to rub the old scars. Her skin had been in tatters when Bakko got her back home and went to work on her. And even with his abilities, she'd been on strict bed-rest for weeks. She'd been terrified of raptors ever since. The fear wasn't quite as debilitating as it had been, but they still always unnerved her.

"If that bitch attacks me, I'll break her face," Alyra muttered.

Zengu raised a brow, looking over his shoulder. "Break 'er face?"

She nodded solemnly. "Yes. Break her face." She would take no argument on the matter. She'd learned to deal with the creatures since, and how to take one out if she ever came across a hostile one again. She'd had to kill someone's mount once, and hadn't been too happy about that. But the thing had tried to maul her, and she'd reacted on pure instinct. She planned to die of old, old age, rather than blood loss and shredded organs.

Zengu chuckled quietly, and shrugged. "Jus' don' try ta punch 'er," he said. "Be a stupid idea. Raptor beaks 're hard an' don' break easy."

"I'll use a hammer then," Alyra shot back stubbornly. Raptors were good mounts, she wouldn't deny that, but that didn't mean she had to like them. And even with all that… she couldn't hide her smile. She shook her head, biting her lip to keep back a grin. "Ow!" The wound she'd given herself split open again, and she sucked the bottom lip into her mouth, muttering curses.

"Heard what ya said to Apoch," Zengu said after a moment. He heard a small, sharp intake of breath behind him, but didn't look back. "Don' die protectin' anyone, huh?" He seemed to taste the words, turning them over in his mind as they slid off his tongue. "Makes sense." He knew what it felt like to be left behind when everyone else was gone. The pain of that loneliness was one that never really left a person. He was tempted to look back, to see and gauge Alyra's expression, but he let her be. "Dose be true words, 'Lyra, but dey don' sound all dat good."

Silence again, for a long time, and all they could hear was the tread of their animals mixed with the sounds of forest life. Then she spoke. "I know. When you love someone with all your heart, there's no question in your mind that you'd die for them." Her hands twisted Korano's reins. "But it's selfish to do that. You're satisfying an unconscious need to prove just how much you love them. All you're doing by dying for them is hurting them."

Another long pause. "Do ya hate yer mate?" Zengu asked. "For leavin' ya alone?"

"No more questions," Alyra muttered. They reached a wide spot in the trees, and she clicked her tongue, nudging Korano into a trot and forcing him past Taki and Zengu. She didn't meet the Troll's eyes as she passed, hurrying ahead. "We should pick up the pace," she said plainly. "That Orc was a good piece of luck, but don't expect any more." She had grown pessimistic over the years, and knew that while good things _did_ happen, bad things were far more likely.

Having the raptor behind her was unsettling, but Zengu seemed to have the animal under control. Still, this didn't stop her from glancing over her shoulder now and then. She bit her lip, being careful of the split, hand moving to her hip, intending to rest on her sword hilt. It wasn't there though, instead strapped to the side of the saddle. It was within easy reach, but still it made her frown slightly. She hadn't fought mounted in a long time. Hopefully she wasn't too rusty.

_'I'll need more clothes,'_ she thought, going over what she needed yet again. You could never be too sure. _'Some charmed pads for my damned cycle. A bigger water skin, and Elven rations last the longest, even if their food can be awfully plain. A waterproof map, a journal to keep tabs on things, food for Korano, brushes for him, something to treat my boots, or maybe new boots entirely. It all depends on how much money I have, but things are pretty cheap in Bryer.'_

She had to check herself again, wincing as she bit too hard on her lip. "Dammit," she muttered. Then she groaned and drew her hand over her face. "Bugger… You'll need some kind of armor, won't you, Old Man?" she muttered, peeking through gloved fingers at Korano. "We'll need to do a few quests to get the money…"

"So get whatchoo need most in da town, and den do whacha need ta," Zengu said, easily picking up what she said.

"But dealing with other people is a pain in the ass," Alyra muttered. "Granted, I need information, but when ya gotta deal with people that _want_ something…" She sighed heavily. "Yeah, yer right."

000

The rest of the trek to Bryer was uneventful. There was sparse conversation, Alyra quite a bit more tightlipped than she had been before. She was determined to make no more of a connection with the Troll than she already had. The small outpost was bustling as the two of them dismounted, looking around carefully. Alyra kept her hood up and her head deep within its shadow, her mismatched eyes flashing about and looking for any hint of black armor accented with blue.

At first glance, there were none, so the two of them advanced. They tied up their mounts to separate hitching posts, Alyra taking her sword and paying a young boy to make sure that no one got in Korano's way. "He's a mean one, but he won't hurt you." She pulled the animals face towards her, staring him down. "_Will_ you, Old Man?" she said lowly, eyes narrowed. He stared back stubbornly for a moment, then turned his head, lipping the boy's shoulder lightly. Alyra nodded approvingly. "Good boy."

Zengu came up beside her as she moved away. "Asked a bit. Da boy said dat dere were a couple wit da black 'n' blue armor." Alyra tensed, hand going to the hilt of her weapon. He quickly put a hand on her shoulder. "Stay calm, mon. Dey be gone. Left days ago."

Her tension eased, and she exhaled slowly, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "Goddess… havin' a price on your head is quite stressful…"

" 'Magine so," Zengu muttered. In contrast, he was completely calm, walking in the relaxed, hunching gait common among his kind. "But it could be worse."

"How?" she muttered sullenly.

"Ye could already be dead."

Alyra rolled her eyes. "Yeah…" She peered over and up at him, lips pursed and pulled to one side. He was surprisingly smart, and his insights often surprised her. She supposed there could also be worse traveling companions. Guilt suddenly twisted in her stomach, remembering how coldly she'd pushed him away. He was willing to risk his life traveling with her; she should at least be a _little_ grateful, right?

Her shoulders sagged, and Zengu blinked. "Oi." He nudged her with his elbow. "I'm da one dat slouches about," he said. "Yer s'posed t' be walkin' all proud and strong."

She looked up at him again with the same pursed, pulled lips, eyes slightly narrowed. "You… you're a strange Troll, Zengu," she finally said.

He stopped and gave a mocking bow in her direction, chuckling lowly. "Why, thank you," he said, mocking a more refined accent. Alyra couldn't help but laugh—albeit softly—and Zengu gave a victorious smile. So she _could_ express mirth. He imagined that it would be a very pretty sound if she let herself _really_ laugh. While it might not have been the best time to try to do it, he decided that he would make a point of getting her to truly laugh.

Alyra shook her head, murmuring something under her breath as she started walking towards one of the many merchants' stalls. That particular one was selling an assortment of rough looking clothing. There was nothing feminine about any of the garments, even if some had a slightly tailored look to them. A woman was in charge, and Alyra took of her cloak long enough for the woman to get her measurements.

"Ye be a small thing," the lady remarked, "but I think I have a few things your size."

"I'll take some that aren't too pricy," Alyra said. " 'S long as they can keep me warm; the weather's startin' to turn."

"Aye, that it is, miss." Snapping for a boy who was probably her son to watch the stall, the woman pulled Alyra back into a stall where she could try on some of the garments. Careful to keep an eye on what she took off, Alyra tried on a range of shirts, undergarments, and britches. She turned this way and that, tugging at the seems to test the strength of the stitching.

Satisfied, she purchased what she needed, taking Korano's saddlebags and selling them, using some of the money to buy a larger set. Rolling up the clothes and packing them tight, she left Korano again to purchase rations and a larger water skin. Zengu went about doing the same, stumbling through a few conversations in Common before he could get what he needed. His purchases were similar in nature to Alyra's, though he bought next to no clothing.

Time ticked by, and coin was spent. The leather craftsman took a liking to Alyra's gloves and boots, and gave her a fair trade on a slightly used set of each. They were practically new, worn just enough to be broken in. She also bough a set of throwing knives to conceal at her wrists. She found the charmed, waterproof map that she had hoped for, as well as a charm to keep the contents of her bags dry if they were submerged in water.

And as far as armor for Korano, she was only able to purchase a leather head peace and something to protect his flanks. She frowned slightly as she considered him now, tapping her chin. "Sorry 'bout this shoddy stuff, Old Man," she murmured, rubbing his neck. "I'm sure you're used to much better equipment than this. But I gotta save what's left of my money." He snorted and shook his head, and she wasn't sure if he was showing disdain or telling her it didn't matter.

Zengu came up to her, eying the new—full—saddlebags. "Got a good haul, den?"

"Yeah, for the most part," Alyra said, turning to face him. She pulled her hood forward, sinking her face back into the shadow. "But this place feels off to me."

He leaned against the hitching post, crossing his arms over his chest. " 'Ow so?"

"Less… right," she muttered. "I usually feel relatively comfortable here. I can't totally relax, but I look over my shoulder a great deal less." Her brows furrowed and she tongued her split lip. "It's not like we're being watched, but more like… unfriendly. An unfriendly mood." She shook her head. "Let's get these guys stabled and get something to eat." It didn't take them long to get their animals situated in a modest establishment next to the tavern. With another order not to bite anyone to Korano, Alyra left the stable with Zengu, entering the tavern.

It was a small place, with a few rooms upstairs for anyone that wanted to stay over night. A handful of roughly hewn tables and chairs were scattered about, with benches pushed up against one wall. The bar was to Alyra and Zengu's right, with a few occupants sipping at various drinks. The air was filled with the scents of pipe tobacco and baking bread, an odd mix that wasn't all together unpleasant.

Pushing her cloak back over her shoulders, but keeping the hood up and her face in its shadow, Alyra strode over to the bar. Not being much of a drinker, she asked, "d'you have cider?"

The barmaid, a tall woman with brown eyes and tawny hair, nodded, and poured Alyra a tall glass. She paid the woman, and took a long drink. It was cool and smooth, lightly spiced and with the perfect fruity after-taste. The small half-Elf sighed her happiness, and looked over as Zengu sat down next to her. He ordered a pint of beer, and she made a slight face. She had once not minded the taste of alcohol, and it _had_ lead to the beginning of her and her mate's relationship, but on the whole, she preferred non-alcoholic drinks.

She sipped again at her cider, and hummed contentedly. "This is wonderful," she said, raising the glass to the barmaid and putting down a few extra copper pieces as a show of appreciation. The cool expression on the other woman's face turned to a small, but warm smile. The look gave Alyra's spirits a little boost, and she visibly relaxed. She had always liked this place, even if she much preferred to be alone.

Zengu could see that her tension had eased a bit, and wondered at it, sipping at his own drink. Alyra always had her guard up, and never let it down for a second. The closest he had seen her come to it was when she had been talking with Iscah. Did she really like this place so much? He could see how it might appeal to a traveler; small, but with anything they might need. It had a pleasant enough air, and the permanent residents—a heavy mix of races—didn't seem to bear each other any ill will. It was a rarity in this day and age. Maybe that was why she liked it. Even if Alyra didn't reveal her mixed parentage, she knew that if she did, no one would think any differently of her.

A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. She may have a harsh and hardened exterior, but on the inside, beyond all those walls, Alyra was just like everyone else; she wanted to be accepted. Hiding the smile, he hailed the maid with a wave of his hand. "Have… what kind of food?" he asked, pausing with his common.

"Well, me Da is tryin' ta make an old Troll dish—a stew," she said, nodding at the kitchens beyond the doorway at the far end. "Ye could try some, if ye like. No promises though; Da's a funny one." Her eyes crinkled up in an apologetic smile.

Zengu nodded, and a few moments later, a large, steaming bowl was brought out to him. Surprisingly, the smell was quite familiar, and brought to mind the food he'd eaten when he was younger. He lifted a bite, blew on it, and then spooned it into his mouth. It wasn't the same, by any means, but the taste brought back memories, and he nodded his approval, as he continued eating. He wasn't sure, but he thought that Alyra ordered the same thing, tucking it away as quickly as he did.

A bit later, sipping at a fresh glass of cider, he saw Alyra poking a finger through her coin purse, and muttering under her breath; his keen ears easily picked it up. "Would _like_ to stay the night, but might not be a good idea… Enough for one room… not sharin' a bed… Hmm, would a bath…?" She thought for a moment, then nodded, getting up. She flagged down another woman that had begun moving about the tables.

"I'd like a single room for the night, please," she said. "And a hot bath if you can manage it." The woman nodded, taking the offered money, and bustled off to see to the request. Alyra looked over her shoulder at Zengu. "You can get a room if you want I guess, but my door will be _locked_," she said quietly. He gave her a dismissive wave, wanting to get some more food.

000

The room was small, but neat, and the tub of steaming water in the corner made it feel like a room in a palace. Even if her bath at home was quite luxurious, Alyra was not the type to scoff at any kind of bath. Locking the door behind her, she made quick work of her leathers and clothing, letting them drop in a messy pile on the floor. Resolving to deal with it later, she strode over to the window in her under things, and locked the shutters tight.

Finally stripping bare, she pulled her soap—and a pick for cleaning under her nails—from her back. Then she eased slowly into the tub. It was quite hot, and she used the pitcher of cold water—it had been set to the side—to cool the bath a bit. Satisfied, she slipped into the warm water, and sighed happily. She dunked her head under to wet her hair, undoing the braids before she lathered her hands with soap and began to scrub.

Cleaning herself was one of the things that relaxed Alyra the most. But even as she hummed a soft tune under her breath, her sword and boot daggers were close. She washed her body and cleaned under her nails—fingers _and_ toes—and then rose out of the tub, water cascading down her gold-tan skin. As she pulled the small towel over, she took a moment to look down at herself.

She was exceptionally small for someone with Elf blood in their veins, but her height had ceased bothering her long ago. Her tattoos, changed and added to over the years, mingled with pale scars. She liked the marks; they showed that she had gone through battle and trials and _lived_. She wore them proudly, even if she was the only one who ever really saw them.

A blush tinged her cheeks a bit as she remembered her stealthed encounter with Zengu in her bathroom. Then she scowled, stepping out of the tub and drying her legs. Sometimes she wished that she had a more human body. As far as body hair went, she had only the soft, downy hair that most women had on their faces. She disliked being so 'perfect' as some would say. Her pubic hair was almost non-existent; a nest of dark red curls on the outer labia.

She prodded at what she could see, frowning at it. "I look like a child," she muttered to herself, drying off and pulling on her under clothes. She exchanged her other clothes for an over large cotton shirt and a pair of loose, brown breeches. She washed what she had to in the cooling bath—using extra soap to keep off the dirt from her body—and hung them before the small fireplace.

The towel around her shoulders, she dug out a carved wooden comb with a handle like a dagger, and attacked her wild hair. It had always loved to tangle, and no matter what her mother or the maids had done, they had always ended up having to pin it back harshly, or braid it tightly. She chuckled at the memory, working at a stubborn knot.

It had gotten rather long, the longest parts hanging past the top of her shoulder blades. "Maybe I should cut it soon," she thought aloud, fingering a lock. She could get some kind of scarf to wrap around her head to hide her ears, and she would have fewer tangles to deal with.

Memory caught up with her.

_"I like it long," Bakko said, fingering a few strands and looking unhappily at the scissors in Alyra's hand._

_ "I know," Alyra said glumly. "But it gets so messy, and it's a rat's nest in the morning!"_

_ "I'd help ya brush it if ya wanted," the Troll said._

_ Alyra looked over her shoulder at her lover, raising her brows. "A mighty shaman, helping to cut his girlfriend's hair? What would the other Trolls think?"_

_ Bakko leaned down and kissed her, slow and gentle. "Yer not my 'girlfriend'," he said. "I plan on takin' ya as my _mate_." She blushed crimson, staring back at him, grip going slack._

_ He took the scissors from her, setting them aside. "If you'll have me," he added quietly, giving a gentle smile._

_ "M-m-mate?" Alyra squeaked._

Alyra's eyes stung, and she scrubbed them hurriedly; this was no time for wallowing in the past! She finished with her hair, and wrapped it in the towel, pulling out her map. She had to get some information. Booty Bay was always a good place to find that, but it was much, _much_ too far away. She knew a few people in Raynewood Retreat, but Zengu certainly wouldn't be welcome there.

_'He can just wait outside,'_ part of her thought.

_'Wouldn't that be rude?'_ thought another.

Alyra grumbled under her breath, frowning. _'He's not exactly always polite himself.'_

_ 'So? Doesn't mean _you_ have to be rude too.'_

_ 'I'm not a nice person.'_

_ 'You're acting like a grumpy old hermit.'_

_ 'I _am_ a hermit!'_

_ 'And a bit of a bi—'_

_ 'Oh shut up!'_

Lips pursed, Alyra went back to looking at the map. Maybe some of the smaller towns would be better. There were little places like Bryer, and also old hermits living in the woods that would know things. She chewed her bottom lip, thinking. She _would_ find out who wanted her dead, and who wanted to get their hands on the one thing in the world that she would never part with, even if she died. Her spirit would haunt the knife so fiercely that she would become legend, and no one would ever touch the thing.

_'It's too bad Bakko couldn't stick around as a ghost,'_ she thought idly, picking up the wrapped knife and running her fingers over it. _'I would at least have had some company in my seclusion.'_

_ 'But he was a sensible man,'_ that annoying part of her said. _'He'd get on you to go out and make some friends that could actually give you a hug now and then.'_

_'I would only need his voice,'_ Alyra thought stubbornly. _'His voice could always soothe me, not matter what was wrong.'_

_'You would need a physical touch after a while…'_ The inner voice sounded almost sad.

The woman waved a hand, as if to brush away the thoughts. She pulled out a small knife and one of the sticks of graphite she wrote with. Sharpening one end with the knife, she circled a few towns that would make good stops. She also marked the areas where she had last seen the old hermits along the forest. There were only two that tended to stay in the same general area, and one that… well… If she wanted to circle _their_ area, she'd have to circle the whole damn forest.

A drop from a loose bit of hair fell onto the map, and she jumped, quickly dabbing the moisture away. She then pushed the map out of harm's way, and leaned over, rubbing the towel over her hair again. Then she flopped back, landing on the bed and staring up at the ceiling. She closed her eyes, and just listened for a moment. She could hear the soft rumble of voices below her, and the clatter of the kitchen; also below, but a little to the left.

Somewhere on her floor, an amorous couple was beginning their fun, and in another room, a man was snoring heavily. If she listened hard, and pushed out everything else, she could catch the skitter of mice in the walls and ceiling. So long as they didn't come into her room or leave little 'gifts' in the food, she didn't mind their presence.

Despite the bath, some of Alyra's muscles were beginning to ache; she hadn't been riding in so long. Adjusting her breast band, she sat up, getting to her feet. She flexed her fingers, rocking them back and forth, trying to get out some of the kinks. Setting her feet in a wide stance, she bent backwards, and then swung around on her hips, cracking her spine. She set about go through a series of stretches that had once been habit. She thought of the horse that she had once owned, a gentle mare named Emily.

A quiet creature, Emily hadn't been much use in battle. She would stand her ground, but would shy away more than lash out. But she had still been a good mount, patient where Alyra was not. She had also not minded running water in the slightest. In fact, she had seemed to _like_ swimming. Alyra chuckled softly, cracking her neck and reaching down to knead her thighs.

Then, out of nowhere, for the first time in years, she found herself feeling a bit proud of her body. There had been no need to look pretty or attractive, only to be fit and clean. But now, as she looked again, a smile pulled at her lips, and a twinkle sparked in her eye. She might not have been tall and slender like many of her kindred, but her dangerous curves more than made up for it. She had good skin too, even if she _was_ somewhat spotted.

Mismatched eyes fell on her marital scars, and the smile showed, though with a note of sadness. Bakko had carved a frame for a full-length mirror for her, adorning the pale wood with images of mermaids and other creatures of the sea dancing among the waves. He'd often come up behind her when she'd dressed before it, and told her how beautiful she was, resting his hands on her hips and tucking her head under his chin. They'd made love before the mirror too, and in the reflective surface had been some of the most erotic images that Alyra had ever seen.

_'I miss you,'_ she allowed herself to think. Not since the nights of sobbing herself to sleep had Alyra allowed herself to think that. In order to survive the upheaval and destruction of her life, she'd locked away all the panic, grief, desperation, rage, and loss that had beset her. Otherwise, she probably would have gone mad.

_'I miss you so much, Love…'_

Alyra hurried back to her clothes and pulled on the sleeve that covered the scars. _'You're slipping,'_ she scolded herself, organizing her things so she could dress quickly if she had too. _'It's done and gone. You don't need to think about it any more. You just need to find who'd out to get you.'_

She put a dagger under her pillow, and her sword within reach. She blew out the candles and one lamp, and crawled into bed after making sure all was locked. Closing her eyes, Alyra chewed her bottom lip. Bryer had seemed calm enough, but there had been that unease, and it made her worry. And it _kept_ here worrying until she fell asleep.

_In this dream, Alyra couldn't see Bakko. It was foggy, and she sat on a small dock, swishing her legs in the cool water below. She could see a shadow in the fog out on whatever body of water this was; it looked vaguely like someone in a boat._

_ "Bakko?" she called hesitantly._

_ The shadow lifted an arm and waved. "Hey, Ali'," a familiar, comforting voice called, muffled slightly by the thick fog. "Not sleepin' well?"_

_ She looked down, wiggling her toes in the water. "That why I can't see you? Figures…" She was wearing an un-dyed cotton slip, with a mossy colored sash around her waist. "I'm worried, Bakko… People are comin' after your knife. You know, the stone one with the bone and leather handle?"_

_ "Ya, I know it," he said, voice oddly grim. "Ye keepin' it safe?"_

_ She looked up. "Of course!" she said, frowning. "You gave it to me, and it's all I have left of you!"_

_ Alyra wasn't quite sure, but it seemed like the shadow that was Bakko turned his head towards her. "Dat da only reason?"_

_ "No," she murmured. "You told me that no one else was ever to touch it. Ever."_

_ A shadowy nod. "Good, girl, Ali'," Bakko said. "Can't explain why yet. Gotta save power."_

_ Frustration bubbled up in the half-Elf, and she clenched her hands. "You're talking like a shaman again," she muttered. "All cryptic and annoying… You know I hate it."_

_ "I _was_ a shaman, Ali'," he said. There was a brush of lips on her cheek, and the fog faded into darkness. "And I miss you too."_


End file.
